


I won't ask for much (but just this once, I'd like you)

by Chyrstis



Series: We could make a home out of this [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Eden's Gate Cult, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/pseuds/Chyrstis
Summary: Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]
Relationships: Sharky Boshaw/John Seed
Series: We could make a home out of this [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798033
Comments: 48
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [finefeatheredfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finefeatheredfriend/gifts).



> This was written for the FC5holidaygiftexchange over at Tumblr for the awesome finefeatheredfriend (if you haven't had a chance to check out their work, you totally should), and ever since this idea hit mid-November it's been close to all-consuming. Not that I have many complaints because it's been a hell of a lot of fun to write, but boy, did this turn out so much longer than I originally planned for.
> 
> I also officially love this pair (in case it wasn't obvious before), and never could've imagined that come the end of the year I'd have this much written for them. Guess this means I'll just have to write more for them later on, eh? ;)

Hurk was his bro. His blood. One hell of a stand up guy, and the person Sharky knew would have his back no matter what.

The one he could depend on no matter what for damn near anything, and the only one right now that he could say to, with his whole heart, “I love you, man, but you can piss up a fucking rope” for getting him into his mess to begin with.

And okay, maybe he was being a bit harsh about it. And maybe he’d wanted the excuse to do it to begin with, but Hurk had dangled the opportunity so perfectly in front of him. Framed it so beautifully, there was no way he was going to say no to it, no matter what.

Especially not with both drinks and two smoking hot women involved. He’d hit a real dry spell, and the temptation to get lucky hit hard.

So, when beers at the Spread Eagle turned into beers down by the river, Sharky had agreed immediately. And when beers at the river turned into the possibility of beers _on_ the river, he’d agreed to that too.

But he didn’t have a boat. Hurk didn’t either.

Maybe they could’ve winged it by borrowing one from the Marina. They would’ve been skinned alive the next morning after his aunt found out about it, but after mulling it over for a few, Hurk had a better idea.

In his words, a better, sexier idea. 'Cause nothing said sexy like a little speedboat ride and some roguish repatriation. Also Hurk’s words, though Sharky was sure on some level that wasn’t supposed to be pronounced like that either.

John had a boat.

John Seed had both a boat and a boathouse. Rich assholes like that always wanted to flash their cash in the most high-profile ways possible, and for whatever reason having his own personal goddamn plane wasn’t enough. He had to have a boat too.

Surely he wouldn’t miss it for a night. And Hurk’s promise to slip him two-hundred bucks on top of that? Really just made the idea all the sweeter.

Things sped up after that. Blurred and blended into the kinds of things he’d see in an action movie, what with him being the sexy hero going behind enemy lines as a means of infiltrating it – and he’d even streaked some mud across his face to seal it.

But somewhere between snagging the fancy speedboat, riding it out, and getting not one but two kisses of gratitude, he’d let himself get sloppy. And on the way back afterwards, with more beers under his belt, and a decent hard on from some over the clothes action, he’d misjudged a few things.

Not the least of which involved just how close of a fit it was to park and settle the boat. It was a square peg meant for a square hole, but he couldn’t see it that way. Not right now, especially not while belting out words to what he’d think a collab between ABBA and the Bee Gees would sound like.

That’s where things blurred again. Grew unclear and muddied as he tried to keep the boat steady. His head pounded as he misjudged the distance - or was it speed? Both were likely - of his approach, as he leapt into action again, this time wondering if his call to Willis his way out was the right one.

Cold water rushed up to meet him, knocking sense into him just long enough to start paddling, but he bobbed down low. Felt things go black, as like an idiot he gulped down a lung and a half full of water as he fought against it.

That’s when he felt hands grab him. A force dragging him up and out of the cold only for the ground to rush up and smack him in the face. 

Hacking it out, he blinked down at the pebbles underneath his hands, his face all but numb at this point as water continued to dribble out of his mouth. That had been close. All too close, he’d realized, still sloshed, but aware enough of the person crouching next to him.

So, he babbled out what he hoped was thanks. Followed it up with more thanks after that, and when he flipped over to maybe even throw a hug or a hearty handshake their way, he froze.

Because he wasn’t ready for the kind of cold fury waiting for him. He also wasn’t ready for John Seed to be the one wearing it either; the kind that he was sure meant he was about to be murdered on the spot.

In that moment, not even two-hundred dollars richer for it, he knew he’d fucked up, but as to how much? He couldn’t say. That was for the morning to tell him, provided he’d make it there.

And right now his odds weren’t looking all that great.

* * *

Pounding. Endless pounding went off, shaking him out of the comfortable space he’d settled into.

The sound echoed again, making him shift around to muffle it. Pulling the blanket around him, he sighed at the silence only to tense when it was broken again.

“Motherfucking balls, man,” Sharky groaned.

So, he wasn’t dead, just felt like it. That he wasn’t, was a relief as he pried his eyes open. The pulsing, pounding pressure building in his head, not so much. Crawling over to the bed’s edge, he pushed himself up and nearly tumbled to the floor.

Knocking. That’s what the sound was.

Leaving his room, he dragged his feet as he walked over to the door, and jumped when his foot came into contact with something ice cold. Not bothering to check, he shook it off, swearing loudly only to notice it was a pair of jeans. Damp, and just as wet as the hoodie draped over the kitchen table.

 _When had he-_ Pointing at it, then at the jeans, he scratched at his head as he stood in the kitchen. Skinny dipping gone wrong, maybe? Gone right? He’d have company if that were the case, but it didn’t stop him from hoping.

He raised an eyebrow, only to start when the knocking began again. “Hold your fucking horses! Seriously, I’m coming.”

Dragging on a nearby pair of pants, he popped his head up in front of the peephole and took a look.

It was John. 

John Seed.

That couldn’t have been right. He rubbed at his eyes and peered through again. “The fuck?”

Nope, John was still there, arms crossed as he waited, and he checked his watch before going for the door. Knocking with a heavy hand, the door was almost rattling, and Sharky stepped back.

Something was up. Something that he couldn’t remember right off the bat, and if it put John of all people on his doorstep, it had to be serious.

But he hadn’t pissed off anyone bad enough to put a lawyer on his porch. Or had he? Maybe the F.A.N.G. Center was finally sick of taking his calls and decided to slap him for it. Or hell, his Moonflower disco party never had that many admirers. That could’ve gone south too.

Not remembering sucked, but it was a Tuesday. Probably found a way to piss off somebody in the county without even trying that much.

Yanking the door open, he regarded the man waiting on the other side with a bleary look. It was bright outside, the clear blue of the sky hurting his eyes as he blinked against it, and felt his headache start to pulse as he narrowed his eyes into a squint.

“Charlemagne Victor Boshaw.” The smile John wore was cold as he stared him down. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

He scratched his head, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he waited for John to continue. When he didn’t, and was actually seeming to want some kind of feedback from him, he grunted out a short, “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Well, I was afraid of that. Considering how impaired you were late last night, and considering the great lengths I had to go to keep you from drowning on my property, it seems it’s up to me to enlighten you on what exactly happened.”

_Drowning?_

He did remember water. Coughing out enough to make him feel a little sick on recalling it. The part before that, when he was whooping it up, and kissing the hell out of his date, was a lot nicer to focus on, and he let his eyes slip shut as he leaned against the doorframe.

Yeah, that was much better. Better than the light searing into his eyes, and better than the asshole camped out on his doorstep.

“Boshaw.”

He cracked open an eye. Squinted right at John’s pinched, irritated face, and considered closing the door on him. “What?”

“You don’t understand the true extent of any of this, do you?”

“Nah, that’s what the whole enlightening thing’s for. Shit, Johnson, where the hell have you been?” he threw out, hating how the pounding in his head was only intensifying. “So if you could get the hell on with it, I could go back to spending my day how I want to. In bed, curled up and doing nothing, not out here listening to you tell me how I…” Sharky let the words trail off. “How I what now?”

“How you _owe me_ ,” John hissed, baring his teeth as the temperature in his tone dropped ten degrees and counting. “You. Owe. Me. For a boat. For a boathouse, and for an assortment of damages all tying back to your little alcohol-soaked ride through my property.” 

Saying each word through clenched teeth, John paused, drew in a breath through his nose as he closed his eyes, then settled back into the same smile he’d initially greeted him with.

“Then when caught, you panicked, confessed, and forged an agreement with me to fix it. Is that ringing any bells now?”

-

“Look, look, look, I get it. This looks bad, right?” Sharky held up his hands, still coughing out leftover traces of water, and tried backing away from him. “Just let me say my piece, okay? Let me say it, and get it out there, and we can go back to-“

“Back to what?” John asked, his voice smooth as he stayed on him. “Back to the smoke? The fire? The wreck I bothered to drag you out of?”

“Yeah, yeah, all of that.”

“Oh, good. Because I’m still waiting. Still wondering why of all things, you haven’t given me a single reason at all not to do what anyone else would’ve already done in my position. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Tell me.”

“I, uh, I don’t know about-“

He snarled as he crossed the distance between them. _“Tell me!”_

_-_

Sharky paled.

Some of it was coming back in batches, none of it painting a good picture at all. And the longer he focused in on that period of time, the more he felt inclined to drop everything and book it towards the woods. At least then he’d have some kind of a fighting chance. John didn’t look like a runner, but if he did head after him he’d make sure to wing him with a branch or two along the way.

He wet his lips, and let out a long breath. “Okay, so say I did.”

“You did.”

“Okay, so…say I did all of it.”

“You did!” John repeated, his voice rising. “How can I make this any clearer to you? We are here to talk recompense. What you rightfully owe me for, and more importantly, what you’ve promised given the alternative. Or should I repeat myself, yet again, but this time using language that you’re guaranteed to understand?”

Now, Sharky had tried to ignore it before. Maybe even give him the benefit of the doubt, but he’d put up with his fair share of people talking down to him like an idiot, and like hell was John going to get in a shot as well.

“Yo, I was trying to be civil here. Civil and about as respectful as I can get seeing as I’m here, wearing actual pants, and listening to you spouting nothing but shit at me. And I get it! Something was broken that shouldn’t have been taken to begin with, but you’re talking deals that I don’t remember agreeing to, and I don’t like being told I’m a fucking moron on top of that!”

“Fine.” John pursed his lips, losing some of his anger, but not all of it. “You’ve made your point, and…maybe I did speak out of line.”

”You did. No maybes there, dude.”

“But that still doesn’t settle any of the business between us. So, here’s my offer. What I outlined to you last night, and to which you enthusiastically agreed to.”

Sharky bit back the knee-jerk response that he wanted to give, and crossed his arms. “So? Spit it out.”

“You will repair it. Rebuild the damaged boathouse with materials I will supply you with, and under my supervision. This will ensure that the work will be completed, done to my standards and specifications, and to also ensure no further damage will be done.”

“Your standards?”

“That’s correct,” John said, with a glint in his eye. “If it’s not to the quality I ask for, you will tear it down and start over. From scratch.”

“Hey, now. You back it the fuck up, 'cause last time I checked you’re not the fucking boss of me.”

“On the contrary. _Yes_ , I am,” John replied, holding up his cell phone. “And If you don’t want any of this getting back to the local authorities, you will take this deal. Now listen closely, because there will be no second offer, and I’m already being generous.”

Keeping as calm as he possibly could, the voice on the phone outlined this in painstaking detail. Too much detail for a drunk man to take in and consider, but just enough for it to be played back to him while sober.

Including the last detail. One that had John’s expression settle into that of pure satisfaction.

_“And you agree to do this? To-“_

_“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll do it. Whatever you want, building this shit up, building another big-ass boat to cart both you and your bullshit to fucking Aruba, I’ll do it. Just don’t send me to jail, man. Me and the po-po just don’t mix, and…shit, I’ll do anything.”_

“Anything,” John repeated, ending the recording. “And looking at the damages done, the cost to avoid a sentence can be upwards of fifty-thousand dollars. That’s no small fee to have to shoulder, and unless you have that to give me, I think you’re better off taking this.”

He was fucked. Fucked beyond question, all because he’d had the piss-poor sense to believe Hurk’s boast that Sharky could commit Grand Theft Boat while sloshed just past his maximum.

Leading to the current dilemma.

Not wanting to go to jail was always at the top of his list. So was having the ability to light shit on fire. Going to jail interfered with both of those things directly, and as much as he could fight or run from it, John had two big things going for him.

One, he was a lawyer.

Two, he had money.

If he wanted to sink him, he’d send him straight down to the bottom of the ocean’s largest, deepest trench without any hesitation. 

Clenching his teeth, then unclenching them, the smile he gave him was more of a grimace. “Uh, so…about that whole helping shit.”

“Let’s establish some ground rules, shall we?”

John raised his chin as he gestured towards the door, and Sharky groaned. Stepping to the side to let him in, John stalked on past, and he nearly fell off the front step.

He was going to need a cigarette. 

Lots of them.

* * *

“This should be simple. Straightforward,” John told him as Sharky sat across from him with a cigarette and a roaring headache.

He was to be on the property two times a week.

Each time he would text him in advance making sure that John was available first, then once the time was agreed on, would expect him there promptly.

No work would be done alone. He would pick John up, then take him down to the boathouse to supervise. From there, he would work – some bare minimum that John rattled off, and he half-tuned out – and would drive John back up before heading out for the day.

And then would repeat it again, and again, and again until John was satisfied.

“So, as I said, simple. Easy enough for anyone to follow,” John stated, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

Already on cigarette number two, Sharky let his head sink into his hand. Passed on enough of a response to satisfy John for now, and had to agree to an actual starting date to even get him out of the door.

He was on cigarette number five when he called up Hurk. Spent a good ten minutes trying to get some kind of answers out of him about the rest of the night while also yelling about the shit he’d royally stepped in by messing with John to begin with.

But Hurk talked him down. Helped him to see this for what it was.

One, not a jail sentence. He could still get out of this, even if it looked like John had all but boxed him into doing a shit-ton of labor for free.

Two, he’d done enough odd jobs to be able to swing this. Had built and burnt down a million sheds in his lifetime, so what was building another one going to hurt?

And three, if all else failed, Hurk was set and ready to see about lighting up another part of John’s place just to give him a means of escape. What was a bro if not the kind ready to throw himself into the line of danger so his cousin could exit stage left?

He could give him that. Even if more fire wasn’t the solution to the problem for once. Much as he needed it, and loved it, it wasn’t going to get him out of this.

Sighing heavily, he let Hurk go and went back to bed.

The next day, however, he pulled his shit together and readied himself for what was going to be the beginning of a very long and painful process.

John’s specific list of guidelines chafed bad, like a pair of jeans that were just the wrong side of too tight, but he couldn’t take them off or return them. He just had to deal, and hope that sitting down or bending over wouldn’t lead to the kind of blowout he’d get run out or yelled at over.

So, he played by the rules. Hated every second of it as he jabbed at his phone and gave John the shortest messages he could manage. Then picked him up and tried to grin and bear it as John tapped at his watch while giving his ride the hairy eyeball, and Sharky proceeded to take them both down to the boathouse.

Seeing it during the day painted the whole thing in a different light. From what he’d relayed to Hurk in a delirious call the night of the accident there had been a whole hell of a lot of smoke and fire. Boatloads - pun intended - as he took in the charred shell of the building.

Guess that extra fuel Hurk told him he’d jacked but didn’t toss did more harm than good. Who knew what he’d planned on using it for, but he was lucky he hadn’t been toast himself.

That did mean his work was cut out for him, however. Tearing the whole thing down and rebuilding it was going to be a pain, and John guided him over to the picnic table nearby to go over the blueprints he’d brought from his house.

Spread out, he followed the dimensions outlined, and where he would need to start once the foundation was set. Saw it broken down into smaller pieces, smaller sections, and having it all stripped down like this helped him see it for what it was. Doable, and not even half as complicated as he thought it’d be. Yeah, it was going to be intense, but wouldn’t be impossible.

Now, his version of things allowed for some leeway. That would help to speed things up along the way, but that was where John came in. He said that there would be no ‘cutting corners’ and ‘eyeballing it’ like he was sure Sharky might do.

“This requires care. Precision. Delicacy.”

John kept on going, rattling off a few more things he was in need of here, and Sharky barely held off from pretending to jerk off in the middle of it. But John eventually cut him loose, telling him to get a feel for the area, and pointed him towards the boathouse.

It had been calling to him, in a way, and he let curiosity finally guide him there.

Walking inside, Sharky let out a low whistle.

He’d done a real number on it. Sidestepping the remains of the support beam overhead, he peeked up at the blue sky above him, and took in the blackened wood and ruined equipment. Trying to play guess who with the burned odds and ends was looking to be a game for another day, but while some parts of the building were well past trashed, other items were surprisingly okay.

Like the photographs hanging on the walls.

Both focused on nature – and he liked nature shit; skulls, antlers, pictures, the whole nine yards – but the fish on display didn’t look like they’d been caught. Not by John, or by any of his family, and they felt more out of place than anything else.

At least that’s what he thought until he turned, and saw it. Saw the big, beautiful, borderline majestic fish hanging on the wall, and burst out laughing.

He was still laughing when John finally joined him. “What could be so-“ John’s voice trailed off, and the resigned groan that followed only made him laugh harder.

Swiping at his eyes to wipe the tears away, Sharky framed the singing fish with his hands. “Big Mouth Billy is hanging right on your wall. Here. _On your wall.”_

“And?”

“And? Dude, that’s like the best shit ever! I haven’t seen one of these since I was like, this tall,” Sharky said, holding his hand to his knee. “Like, I thought they’d stopped selling them.”

“They should’ve.”

“But they didn’t, and that’s pretty damn great if I may say so myself. You’ve gotta tell me who gave you this to begin with. Broseph?”

John sighed, his mouth twisting as he remained silent.

“Ol’ Jake-n-bake then? Dude’s pretty serious, but maybe he gave you this to be nice. Or funny. Shit, maybe both.”

“You had it right the first time,” he admitted, eyeing first him, then it with distaste.

Joseph Seed’s doing? The thought of that made a wide grin break out on his face. “Well, shit. Guess I need to thank him then. Otherwise, I think it’d get pretty lonely out here.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re not gonna sit there and talk my ear off the whole time, so I was thinking I’d need to start talking to myself just to make shit interesting, but Bill here’ll be a fucking hoot once you get him started.”

The offended look that crossed John’s face shifted straight to horror when Sharky waved his hand in front of the fish’s sensor. To his delight, it sprang to life, singing enthusiastically, and when Sharky joined in, John visibly clenched his teeth.

“Still works too! Come on, it’s catchy.”

Picking up on the tune only to mangle it further, John kept on staring at him the entire time. Through one full cycle of it as Sharky snapped his fingers, through a few of his claps, and through at least one hop.

Still, nothing. “Seriously? Feeling none of the magic of that little guy?” Sharky shook his head, giving him a disappointed glance. “Shit, better go one more round to be sure. Maybe that’ll help, and you can join in whenever you like.”

John turned on his heel and promptly left.

Eyeing the bass, he gave one of its fins a small fistbump, only to nearly knock it off of the wall.

Maybe he’d be able to get through this after all.


	2. Chapter 2

It took two and a half days to tear the old boathouse down.

John hadn’t lied when he mentioned wanting him to get in there and take it apart piece by piece, and hovered over him the entire time.

The whole monitoring bit was easily the part that annoyed him the most. Like he was waiting for him to screw up. To somehow find a way to take the already burnt building and set it on fire again through force of will alone. Which, while badass, was well out of his means, all the wishing and praying he'd sometimes do to monkey Jesus aside.

But that didn’t stop John from acting like he had the ability. Riding him further during smoke breaks, or barking order after order at him from the sidelines.

Every other word out of his mouth was a correction. To tell him to go back to read the blueprints again. To check his measurements. To put out that cigarette, pry out that misplaced nail, and to use some of that delicacy he kept on going back to, making Sharky’s eyes want to roll back into his head.

And music? The one time he’d tried to bring any levity to the situation with the soothing sounds of disco, John put an end to it immediately. Really just made it clear how much of a drag he wanted to be, and only wanted to push the point home.

Seeing as John was some big-shot lawyer, he really expected him to have more to do than nitpick and lord this whole thing over him. Like he’d stick around for a few weeks, use the time to get off on whatever power trip he was having over this, and then go back to bugging the department, the local businesses, Nick, shit, anyone.

But John Seed was also _petty as fuck_.

Local gossip hadn’t painted the guy as a kind or forgiving figure, and while the Seeds as a whole were alright at best and fucking weird at worst, over the past couple of years John had picked up a rep as a colossal asshole all on his own.

Tickets? Contested. Special orders down at the store or for parts? Made with specific instructions that needed to be followed to the letter. If not, he’d demand and get his money back, damning everyone with the fine print others would skim over.

Hell, Sid, one of the guys that worked down at the cattle ranch, had traded paint with him once. He’d done so while stopping at the general store, and hadn’t paid much mind to the fancy car parked in the lot, getting just close enough to leave a small scuff on the rear bumper.

In those cases, a person would trade numbers, or see what they could buff off before moving on, 'cause insurance claims were a pain in the ass, and half of the cars in the county were a little late on renewing registrations anyway. Shit, he was coming up on a year, and hoping to see how much longer he could go before any of the Deps cottoned on to it.

But no, the minute John caught on, Sid recalled the glint he got in his eye. Then told him he’d slap him with the largest fine possible for both the damage and the late reg. All over trading paint. Not major damage, not even a busted tire.

Just paint.

Sid was still spitting mad about it, months after the fact.

He’d even pulled a fast one when it came to setting up big bro Joe’s compound. Digging up some obscure property laws all but guaranteeing the land could be sold to them.

No, no one earned the title of mega-dick by being sweet and accommodating. His bro had smoothed over a lot of ruffled feathers by being pretty okay after that, even with all of the converts chilling the fuck out on his property, but John was still John.

And now he personally had that shit to deal with. Today, two days from now, and who knew how many weeks or months after that.

So much for those chicks wanting and keeping his number too. Hurk told him he’d snagged at least one number on the way back to their drop off, but when he’d tried to call them back the other day he got no answer. Ghosted him like it was nothing, and he guessed he deserved that.

What with getting himself caught and left to doing whatever the hell John wanted for as long as John wanted.

“As per our agreement,” John would remind him, whenever he felt the point needed pushing.

And he pushed.

Whenever Sharky would drop something, whenever he let his feet drag, whenever he cut something and John was ready to whip out his tape measure.

He pushed, and Sharky shot another prayer up to monkey Jesus, hoping that maybe this would be the day to go Human Torch on the situation. Or at the very least a little Cyclops.

Not today, but he’d try again tomorrow.

But on the days when Sharky was working, it wasn’t always just the two of them. He’d full on expected this whole thing to go on in its own little pocket, with Hurk eventually crashing the party due to a need to bust him out or worse.

The day that Joseph first showed up stood out, for one. 

Joseph Seed was kind of like Pastor Jerome. Not his first pick to hang out with, considering they were both on opposite sides here. Of the whole preaching and managing earthly temptations, while not super indulging in the kind of shit that he knew he wanted in his life, period.

It came with the territory, being religious leaders and all that, but when Joseph first rolled in to the county, he’d brought his people with him.

And they were an interesting bunch. The People of Eden’s Gate were some kind of holistic commune where it was pretty hunky-dory roughly ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was wondering just what to do about the men and women that wanted the simple life. Living humbly while offering help wherever needed.

While their hearts were in the right place, it was pretty boring stuff otherwise, Sharky decided. He’d even considered joining up for the hell of it only until Hurk reminded him that there wasn’t much fucking to be found there. Pretty women, sure, but the kind more focused on spirituality, and less on how many ways they could Clutch Nixon-ify their daily lives.

But Joseph on his own was a different story.

Watching John go from calmly sipping his drink, doubling-down on just how refreshing it was when Sharky happened to push the wheelbarrow past him, to spitting half of it out when Joseph materialized next to him was fucking priceless.

Greeting him warmly, Joseph pulled a sputtering John into a kind-of half-hug gesture, but John’s cool had already been lost, and in front of his entourage too.

Joe’s wife was with him, plus kiddo number one of a baker’s dozen, carrying them up and on her hip as they talked. With them was also a woman dressed in the modest clothes the Peggies stuck to. She wasn’t trying to stand out, but he didn’t need sharp eyes to see how damn pretty she was.

It had to have been a brother thing, Sharky gathered. Embarrassing the shit out of younger siblings seemed almost natural to Joseph, and it might’ve been petty of him too, but watching John try to get his shit back in line in front of all of them was like hitting the jackpot.

So, Sharky kept on working, sneaking looks over at the group every now and then, and at one point gave an awkward wave back whenever they tried acknowledging him. But whenever John glanced his way, Sharky didn’t hide his shit-eating grin. No, it stayed put for the rest of the day.

The next time Joseph came over, however, he didn’t stop by just to say hi. He approached Sharky, ignoring John’s loud protests, and insisted on helping.

He’d get water, and help with any items that needed anchoring, stepping in whenever it looked like Sharky needed another hand. It was the most contact he’d had with the guy outside of the times he’d tried preaching at the Eagle, and outside of that? He was actually pretty okay to be around.

Well, he personally didn’t have a problem with Joe, at least. John’s irritation skyrocketed with every suggestion, especially when Joseph did the impossible. Told him that with a three-person job, you needed three people, and John? John was capable.

“You sure are,” Sharky added, giving him a wicked grin, and John looked mad enough to spit. 

But he didn’t say no. Didn’t even try, or attempt it.

Did more than his fair share under the loving supervision of his older bro, and come nightfall, Sharky realized he’d had a damn good day. It was the lightest he’d felt in weeks, and wasn’t about to turn that down. Not when it helped him jump back into things with some extra pep, and the progress was a boost too.

With the actual frame up and the panels and exterior being added piece by piece, Sharky was starting to feel pretty accomplished. Proud even, because he built this. Yeah, he was being needled at every step of the way, but he used his own two hands to get this set up, no one else’s, and at the end of the day could actually see more of this coming together.

If he kept this up, he’d also have some extra skills to add to his repertoire. Might even get a chance to twist Hurk’s arm into trying out that whole ‘building and flipping’ thing that seemed to be hot at the moment, provided he wasn’t here for the next ten years.

But goals. He had goals to work towards and something to show for it, and it was pretty damn nice in the grand scheme of things.

Today, however, John had a guest again. The same Peggie woman as before, holding a basket, flanked by a few other converts.

Full on expecting to see Joe with her, Sharky wondered if he was waiting out in the woods again. Hell, even John was checking the path back up towards his house, looking past her every now and then to see if he’d catch him.

But as the minutes ticked by, and Sharky kept on working, nothing happened. And long after the other Eden’s Gate members had left, the two kept on talking, having what seemed to be a hell of a time going off of the signals they were giving off.

Smiling, laughing. Facing each other directly as they spoke, Sharky had John’s back to him almost completely, which had his eyebrows climbing up.

And judging by the way she was reacting to John in turn, he had to have been turning on the charm. Smiling shyly, twirling her hair around her finger, hell, he’d put money on her being a two-word question away from dropping everything to get a piece of that.

It was annoying as fuck, really. Dry spell or not, watching John pull it off with minimal effort sucked.

Sure, he had a lot of things working for him. The guy was loaded, for one. Had more than enough money to net himself a fancy car, his large-ass ranch, and a plane. He’d also had a boat up until Sharky had wrecked it, but that was beside the point. Man had more money than sense, and worked the slick lawyer angle for all it was worth. He’d listened in on enough convos to know just how many women in the county dug it. Shit, men too.

Plus the whole property on the water was a real panty dropper. At least going off of what his Auntie had said shortly after John had first bought it, gossiping with Sharky about the costs and expenses that came with it.

Then she promptly turned the talk on its head by launching into talking about John’s ass instead.

His drink hadn’t stayed in his mouth for long, and she’d dropped her forlorn sighing long enough to tell him not to stain the carpet. That he had to hear and think about John’s ass at all wasn’t fucking fair, especially since he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t that much of a draw to begin with. He’d checked.

Whenever John’s back was turned towards him, he’d sneak a look to see what the deal was only to be disappointed. Better asses were walking around Hope County right this moment, his included, but good luck trying to argue that with her. Or even get three words in edgewise before wanting to slap some sense into himself.

Besides, John’s eyes were better. Hands down, Sharky knew they’d been his ticket to pound town on more than one occasion, needing only to show them off and say a few fancy words to seal any kind of deal.

Dropping the wood onto the ground, he crouched down low. Stared at the wood grain of the plank to clear his mind a little before shifting his attention back towards John.

_Shit, were they still talking?_

He rolled his eyes. Whatever John was saying couldn’t have been that good, and any joke? Nowhere near funny enough to get a giggle like that.

At that time, John turned, giving him a look over his shoulder as Sharky became well aware of two sets of eyes on him. The woman for one, and the pretty boy lawyer that had been eating up every last shred of her attention until now.

A cross between smug and expectant, John gestured towards him.

_Well?_

Sharky knew three ways to tell someone to get fucked, but picked the least subtle one just in case.

Shocked for a second, John closed his mouth. But soon after, he pressed a hand to his chest, looking hurt. It was pretty convincing, making Sharky feel for a moment that he’d done something shitty like kicked a puppy.

Shame it didn’t reach his eyes. Or match the sharp smile that crept in.

“Smug-ass, smirking fuckface,” Sharky muttered, throwing the wooden plank to the side.

But not even that stuck around either. No, John flashed his pearly whites at the woman with him too, making her melt right in front of them.

Salt in the motherfucking wound. That’s what it all was, but lucky for him he only had a few more hours left to go. Then he could go home, get in a kickass shower and see what Hurk was doing.

Standing up, he wiped his face down with his handkerchief. If this had been anytime during the summer he would’ve been dying, but at least the weather was working in his favor. The breeze took the edge off just enough, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds to soak it all in.

“Oh, Charlemagne?”

Grating right on his ears, the pitch John used never failed to make him want to grind his teeth together. That, and saying his name. Kept on doing that well after being told he could call him Sharky. Shit, even his grandma used it sparingly.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing over there-“ John froze, and all smugness vanished.

That put him on edge. “Yo, you wanna expand on that, amigo?”

Slowly turning around, Sharky caught the small creature on the ground and felt every hair on him stand on end. Black and white, and assuming the posture any pissed off animal would, it stood tall for its small size with its tail up, ready and aiming right at him.

Skunks, though, had never liked him. Guess he’d earned that after the whole kissing one bit. So, staring down what he was sure had to be some distant relative out for revenge, he did what came naturally.

Yelled. Loudly, and might’ve sealed his fate right then and there.

Hit, but not in the eyes – thank Hurk’s monkey Jesus for that – he sprinted down towards the river and dove right in.

Grabbing his cap, he kept it in hand as he bobbed back up to the surface. The smell hit as he gulped down air, and he furiously paddled away from the shore when he realized he’d been followed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

This was fucking bonkers, and it was only getting worse.

Could skunks swim? Did they have a sense for it, or was he getting played by the only one able to? Was this the moment some poor guy was going to have to act out in the movie about his life? Swimming out, smelling to high heaven as a rich asshole laughed it up from the shore?

Fuck, he hoped to hell not, 'cause he’d lived an okay life up ‘til now. And having that be the moment he’d be known for immortalized up on the silver screen was just lousy at best.

Looking back, he watched as the skunk gave him the evil eye for a minute, pacing back and forth as it thought about shooting at him again. Little fucker wasn’t done yet, but couldn’t fire another round off from where it was. 

John on the other hand, was watching the whole thing develop from a distance. He hadn’t taken off, but wasn’t laughing like he thought he would either. If anything, his gaze was sharp as he aimed it over at the skunk camping him out, and kept it set in place as he approached the boathouse.

Whatever the hell he had in mind, Sharky hoped he’d do it, and do it fast.

Shit, if he ended up zapped too, that’d also make his week, but for now he needed to keep swimming, and tried to see if he could make his way back towards land. His arms and legs weren’t tired, but the water wasn’t getting any warmer, and this was more of a workout than he’d planned for.

The skunk did not let up, following his drift.

“Seriously? Don’t you got something better to get up to?”

No, it didn’t, and he paddled harder hoping to get some kind of a lead on it. Kicked enough with the intent of making a break for it as soon as he hit land.

Maybe he could shimmy up a tree? Nah, he’d be a sitting duck, worse off there than here. Get back to his car on the way? His keys were swimming in his pocket right now, along with-

 _Aw, dammit._ There went that phone. Sputtering into the water, he coughed around the word that would’ve come out otherwise, then gave it up to keep on swimming.

On the edge of the shore, he dragged himself up and out and booked it. Didn’t see anything waiting for him, but didn’t waste time either. Just hit the nearest patch of tall bushes and stayed low.

Waiting was the worst part. Waiting, listening, and trying not to make too much noise on his end. Every branch, twig, and leaf was the enemy now, and he wasn’t about to let that skunk get the drop on him again.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Loud squeaking sounded off in the distance, and he poked his head out from the bush.

Scanning left and right, Sharky checked for black and white. That and movement. When neither seemed to be present, he pushed his way forward and stepped out into the open.

Letting out a slow breath, he shook his hat out and slipped it back on. Then took in a tentative sniff as he raised his arm. The smell hung around him like a cloud, and getting a bigger whiff of it only made him want to gag.

Peeling the shirt off, he wrung it out, and gave it a smell as well. Now _that_ made his eyes water. With his luck his jeans were just as bad, and he didn’t bother checking. Just pulled them off to get some of the water out of them too, and resigned himself to drip-drying the rest of the day outdoors.

“Charlemagne? You can come out now!”

John. Guess he’d found a way to deal with it after all.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Ugh, fucker. Took him long enough.” Groaning to himself, he slung his wet clothes over his shoulder and started heading towards the clearing. 

“Well, there you… _are?_ ” John gave him a quick once over as he walked past, and pursed his lips. “Hmm.”

The woman with him didn’t even try to make eye contact. Just kept her attention directed elsewhere, her cheeks tinted red.

Great. Not that he was trying, but his odds of getting even a pity look in passing had all but tanked.

“Yo, I don’t wanna know what you did, but after that? My bullshit meter’s maxed, so fuck off.”

Prying his keys out of his pocket, Sharky unlocked the trunk of his car and threw the clothes into the back of it. Between the gas cans and propane tanks he’d thrown back there often enough, skunk wasn’t going to add much to the smell in there.

“Fuck off? That’s not very kind, all things considering.”

The trunk dropped, and he might’ve used more force than necessary. “Kind?”

“Not even a thank you?” John eyed him from a distance, smug, but only for a second. “After chasing off your little tormentor? Such a shame, really.”

“That I ain’t feeling, what? Warm gratitude towards you right now? Like happy and fuzzy shit?”

John scoffed. “Hardly.”

“'Cause you’re making a whole lot of noise for nothing, and I wouldn’t be out here busting my ass at all without you to begin with.”

“Oh, my dear Charlemagne,” he watched as John withdrew a blue handkerchief from his jean pocket, and held it up to his face to cover his nose, “I’m hardly the one at fault here.”

His patience snapped like a brittle twig. Rattling off words as fast as they came to him, Sharky scraped for the bottom, tried actively to come up with the most out of bounds targeted insults he could conjure up just to see if he could wipe what he was sure was a smirk right off of John’s face.

Then nearly crashed into the woman who had stepped into his path. Making full-on eye contact now, she gave him a hesitant, but soft smile. “I think this might help.”

In her hands was a towel. A nice, fluffy one, and she held it out towards him.

The anger drained out of him as he stared at her. Almost as if someone took an ice bucket and dumped it right over his shoulders.

Gingerly taking it, Sharky let it dangle in the air between them. “Uh, thanks?”

“Of course. For anyone in need, and you certainly seemed to be. Considering your lack of…clothing in general right now.”

Still had the underwear on, at least. Blushing five different shades of red, he quickly wrapped the towel around himself. “Yeah, um, thank you again, miss.”

She nodded, and headed back towards John. “We’ll be heading out, but can we expect you at mass later tonight?”

John lowered the handkerchief just enough for Sharky to catch the frown. “If work allows it. There’s still a lot left to do here, but you can let Joseph know I’ll try.”

Sharky pulled up a corner of the towel to wipe his face, no longer able to hear much of what was traded between them. Lady hadn’t even flinched at the smell up close, and the towel was a nice one. Nicer than any of the kind he had at home, and must’ve been in the basket she had with her.

Yeah, got that pity look after all. Great.

Staring down at his feet, he removed his cap to run a hand through his hair. The hushed voices behind him eventually stopped, and by the time John walked over he’d switched to looking out over the water.

“That was interesting.”

“Sure,” Sharky said, tired of arguing with him.

“And there went our progress for the afternoon. At least the morning wasn’t a complete waste, but our guest derailed us thoroughly. And I don’t believe you have a change of clothes, do you?”

Sharky rubbed his shoulder, and felt it twinge in response as he moved it. He badly needed a cigarette, and was desperate enough to see how many times it’d take for a wet one to actually light.

“Do you?”

“Look, I get what you’re asking. And no, I’d have-“ John raised the handkerchief again, and the words died in his mouth. “You know what? Forget it. And if you’re looking to avoid this shit, don’t stand downwind of it. Basic Scouting 101 right there.”

Sharky whipped the towel off and threw it at him. 

John snatched it out of the air, keeping it from smacking him in the face. “Leaving?”

Not bothering to check behind him as he approached his car, Sharky flashed him the finger.

“You can take this with you, you know.”

That John didn’t take the bait, or fight him on it, only irritated him further. He also seemed to be following him, and Sharky scowled at him. “Don’t need it.”

John sighed, and put away the cloth. “Charlemagne, it’s a towel, and you’re still soaking wet.”

“And maybe I want the draft to help dry the swamp ass brewing here, okay?” he shot, climbing in behind the wheel. “And if you wanna give me shit for cutting out early, tack on more hours as a penalty, whatever, I’ll deal with that next time. Or, hell, the time after, as long as it doesn’t mean I’m still standing here talking any of this shit with you. That work?”

The thin line John had pressed his lips into told him otherwise, but he said nothing. Just crossed his arms before holding out the towel to him one last time.

Sharky hit the gas and didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharky, I'm sorry, but I was going to throw a skunk at you here pretty early on in the stages of planning, I just had to figure out how. 
> 
> Also, updates shouldn't be spaced out much between chapters of this at all. It'll all come down to edits and time needed to get each one set up, and I want to thank you all for checking this out so far!


	3. Chapter 3

It hadn’t been his best moment.

Drenched, nearly buck-ass naked behind the wheel, and feeling his underwear starting to chafe, Sharky knew he hadn’t made the best choice either. Maybe it’d been the fumes, maybe it’d been the embarrassment, but he’d had it, and needed to clear out fast.

Luckily he always had a spare set of underwear on hand– seriously, an extra pair was not a thing to overlook in an emergency– but that philosophy had never extended towards actual clothes, leaving him in a dicier spot than normal.

Because heading home, pissed off, and speeding didn’t do him any favors. Especially not when one of the Deputies pulled him over only to ask what the hell he was doing. Deputy Rook hadn’t really busted his chops too many times before, but he didn’t have high hopes heading into it.

Full-on expecting a public indecency charge, he’d launched right into the story only for her to catch some of the eau de skunk he was still wearing. Wrinkling her nose, she’d waved him off, told him to get right back to fixing that problem, and she’d see about forgetting this ever happened.

Not that he’d flashed her or anything, but she kept her eyes on his face the entire time and refused to lower them.

And when she let him drive off, he doubled down on that pledge to at least pack a spare pair of jeans.

When tomorrow hit, he reset everything. Decided to take on this new day and start from scratch all while scrubbing himself off furiously, because the previous one blew from hell and back, and he wasn’t going to finish any of this without a clear head.

And much as he didn’t like to admit it, John hadn’t gone out of his way to make things worse for him. Not directly, so he let part of the mental grudge he’d been nursing go.

With Hurk’s help he snagged a replacement phone, pulling strings Sharky didn’t need to know the finer details of, and when his next time out was due, he went back, ready to dive into the old routine again.

Not bullshit-free, but at the very least skunk-free.

And he was hit with the bullshit end of things almost immediately when John all but threw him into the waiting arms of Joseph’s people. John had volunteered to help too, but didn’t ask, simply relayed this to him all while being guided towards a set of trucks. Filled with ‘essentials’ they were to be taken to the compound, off-loaded, then brought back.

While any danger sense Sharky had would’ve gone off in any other situation than this, he hadn’t been too pissed about it. Joseph hadn’t hesitated to help him before, and he wasn’t about to forget what the woman from last time had done for him, and kicked himself repeatedly for not managing to get her name. Yeah, he’d been embarrassed as fuck, covered in skunk funk, and standing in his underwear, but he’d dropped the ball on that one, and hoped he’d have a chance to meet her again later on.

As morning turned into the afternoon, and more items were hefted onto the trucks to move, he lost track of time, focusing only on what he could grab, pass, and carry. He’d even lost track of John, seeing no sign of blue anywhere in the tide of white and beige, figuring he’d find him when he needed him, and was eventually proven right when he’d stepped out for a small smoke break.

Tapping him twice on the shoulder, John gestured back towards the cars out front, signaling he was free to go back to the boathouse. And when John mentioned he was staying behind to finish up and not to wait for him, Sharky blinked at him for a good minute before double-timing it out of there. Opportunities like this weren’t to be passed up, and he left before John decided to change his mind after all.

Winded, but not really feeling it yet, he figured he still had a good half a day to go before really needing to tap out, and could burn off the rest while getting more of the boathouse’s roof down.

But when he reached the spot down there, taking a decent drag of his cigarette as he relaxed, he took the moment for what it was. A break. A moment where he didn’t have a microscope on him for once, and the tension bled right out.

Suddenly beat, he sat himself down on the ground by the boathouse. Flopped down onto his back as soon as he’d finished off his cigarette, and looked up into the sky. Clear and blue, it was about as gorgeous of a day as it could get for early fall around there, and he tugged his cap down to cover his eyes.

Just for a sec. He’d earned it.

The water helped drag him along towards it. To that peaceful place where he didn’t have to worry about much for once. 

_Delightful, isn’t it?_

He smiled as the breeze blew by, feeling it pull him that much closer to sleep.

 _Isn’t it just so? Too peaceful, almost. Calm. Quiet,_ the voice from the dream said, pleasant to listen to itself. _A shame, really._

He frowned. _Why?_

_Because wouldn’t it be better spent on the river? On the water? On a boat?_

“Yeah. Hell, yeah,” he murmured. 

_Speeding along. Leaning into the wind as it whips around you. Just…perfect._

Perfect.

_I’m glad you agree. But it wouldn’t be on just any boat. No, but the rather expensive one that you so happened to smash directly into my boathouse._

Sharky tensed.

“Which you should be working on right this very instant, if memory serves me right.”

Slapping the brim of his hat in his panic, it flew up and off of his head. John was crouched down next to him, blue sunglasses down over his eyes, and wearing a smile that showed too many teeth to be friendly. 

Frozen in place, both stared the other down as the seconds ticked by, and Sharky couldn’t kick his brain in the ass enough to get it to respond. No, it seemed set on adding its own running commentary to this, all of which he was worried would spill out the moment he opened his mouth.

“Uh, yo.”

“Yo,” John replied, dropping the smile altogether. “Enjoying the break?”

“Well, I was. Actually.” John’s eyes narrowed, and Sharky swallowed hard. Felt his head bob as he tried to get past the haze the nap had put him in. “Got a little tired, and figured I’d rest some of it off, but…”

“But what?”

Sharky watched John’s teeth come out again in that odd non-smile of his, and forced his attention back up to his eyes instead. “Uhh…”

Blue on blue, the lenses of his sunglasses covered his eyes but didn’t conceal them completely.

That left Sharky wondering how the hell he’d managed to get the shade that close to begin with. It wasn’t a perfect match, but no one was going to split hairs over a color pretty as that being a compromise. At least he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t John, or trying to color match like John, and different strokes for different folks, he guessed, but there was no need to be so damn-

John cleared his throat. “Well?”

Shit. Losing it twice in less than five minutes? Maybe he really did need the shut-eye after all.

“Ah, fuck. But I guess it’s over now,” Sharky said, shaking the last of the haze off, “and I don’t see any reason to keep on dragging this shit out any longer than I have to, so…”

He clambered up after recovering his hat, breathing in deep as he did, and swiped a hand at his forehead. It hadn’t been a quick hop and a skip up, but the weird floating feeling that came with it, didn’t help much.

Not bothering to look back at John as he shadowed him, he grabbed for one of the boards sitting on the grass, and dragged it up. Setting it on his shoulder, it bobbed like an off-balance seesaw until he was able to steady it enough to walk with.

After that, it was only a matter of taking it over to the ladder and carrying it up. Simple.

“Are you sure you have a handle on this?”

Tossing the board on the ground, Sharky reached for the ladder. “What? Johnny Law’s worried for once?”

He was on the second rung before he glanced back, and whistled at the strength of John’s glare.

“Damn. That bad, huh? Guess I’d better start praying then. Maybe ol’ Joe could give me a few pointers. Give me some of that higher learning you all love so- fuck!”

The next step should’ve connected. In some ways he was glad it didn’t, because any higher and he would’ve been nursing a broken neck and not what he was thinking was shaping up to be a broken ass. 

Groaning into the grass, he heard rushed footsteps as John ran over to him.“Tell Joe I’m sorry,” he wheezed. “I take it all back. Just in case he’s got some way of putting the holy god-fearing evil eye on me, ‘cause I did not like that one bit.”

John was definitely worried now, looking a lot more concerned than he would’ve given him credit for as he crouched down next to him.

“I’ll let you do that yourself. Provided you can get back up from this.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, John examined him closely. Narrowed his eyes as he checked for whatever the hell kind of injury he was expecting, and Sharky cleared his throat.

“What?” John snapped.

“Yo, uh. Don’t think you’re going to see much up topside. ‘Cause in case you were wondering, I’m clenching the thing that’s smarting the most.”

Following his thread, John checked. Actually looked over at where his hands had moved to, both resting right over his ass, and Sharky almost couldn’t believe it. So, he did what any other guy in his position would've done. Took the shot.

Curling his hand into okay sign, he moved it close enough to his balls to count, and struggled not to go into a coughing fit. “Made you look.”

It took a second to click, but the dawning realization of what John was looking at exactly was priceless. Spinning back on him, he didn’t waste time on being irritated. Just went straight to pissed and didn’t look back.

“What the hell were you thinking?” John asked through clenched teeth.

“That I had this? Put one foot up, then two.” Pushing himself up so he could sit, Sharky sucked in a breath. “Least I thought I did.”

“Oh, did you? _Get up_.” John reached for his arm, and pulled him bodily to his feet.

The pain faded to a dull throbbing, telling him he was okay enough to move around at least, but balance? He found his mostly shot as he rocked, leaning on John only long enough to take a tentative step towards the picnic table nearby.

Feeling John’s eyes burning a hole into his back, Sharky kept on going. Didn’t think John was going to let him get far without saying anything else, but as he hobbled over to the table he had to check over his shoulder. To see what exactly John’s deal was if he wasn’t going to keep on yelling at him, only to find him watching closely.

“Yo, don’t make it weird.”

John’s eyes flicked up to his. “You would be the one doing that.”

“…I mean, that shot to my moneymaker was pretty bad, but it ain’t broke, so I don’t think it’ll need any fixing.” Considering it briefly, Sharky shrugged. “Not that I guess I mind you looking much either, seeing as it’s-“

“I wasn’t,” John replied, unamused. Crossing his arms, he glanced skyward and sighed. “But maybe you had the right idea to begin with.”

“Right idea with what?”

 _“_ The resting part. Not…whatever this is supposed to be.” John eyed him skeptically as he walked up next to him, and held out his hand. “Let me see your keys.”

“Why?”

“You’re exhausted. More than you’re willing to admit to after helping Joseph. So, I propose a break. Not down here, but up at the ranch instead. There’s water, better seats available, and if you do end up needing some form of treatment, an actual first aid kit.”

“Like I said, it’s not exactly busted. And I really don’t think you wanna-”

“And alcohol.”

Sharky’s eyes lit up. “For real?” John nodded, and Sharky immediately started fishing for his keys. 

“Ah, ah,” John said, wagging his finger at him. “O _nly_ if you hand them over first. I’d rather not add loss of life or limb to the things you would need to compensate me for if we end up crashing, so I don’t want you anywhere near the wheel.“

“Dude, if I’m dead I can’t pay you back for shit. Hell, if we’re both dead, that debt’s pretty much kaput.”

“Exactly,” John stated, “and precisely why I should be the one driving us there, not you, so if you could?”

Staring down at his open palm, Sharky frowned. Checked the keys clenched in his fist, and weighed his options.

Sighing again, John gave him a look. “Sometime today.”

The beer won out. “Eh, fuck it.”

He placed the keys in John’s hand, and in exchange earned something he didn’t expect. A smile. 

* * *

It actually didn’t bother him all that much. Being chauffeured around by John was an idea he wouldn’t have come up with in a thousand years, but watching John struggle to get into his car and figure it out was funny enough on its own before he even got around to starting it.

The driver’s seat cover was a blanket, and there was a hole worn into the cushion just from age and use which John made a face at soon after sinking into it, but after cramming more of the blanket into the spot to get comfortable – a move Sharky often did himself – he started the car.

The motor let out a loud whine. Wrinkling his nose, John threw a critical look Sharky’s way as he shrugged a shoulder back at him. Turning the key again, this time the car kicked to life, and John managed not to stall it when he pulled out.

The rest of the ride up wasn’t eventful, even when John skidded over the dirt due to the worn tires. Just corrected for it, tensing behind the wheel as Sharky casually talked him through it, and spent the last stretch of the trip telling him how the last time he’d done that the tire had blown.

“Seriously! Popped. Got me spinning and I nearly threw up by the time I stopped. It was pretty fucking awesome.”

John, however, didn’t seem to agree. Not by the way he’d gripped the wheel, and not with the look he shot him shortly after saying that.

So, when they pulled up to the hangar, John all but jumped out of the car.

Stifling a laugh, Sharky followed him inside, and couldn’t help but rub his hands together at the kind of stash John had to have waiting out here. Probably high-proof, aged shit, the kind of stuff that was usually too rich for his blood and would’ve been charged for just by looking at it.

But first? Those chairs set off to the side were calling his name, and he headed straight for them.

Setting himself down gently, Sharky didn’t care if he was half hanging out of it as he oozed down and adjusted. There was nothing left to do but focus on chilling, and he let his eyes slip closed as he did just that.

He heard humming. It wasn’t anything he recognized, but John kept up with it as he rummaged around nearby. Light little notes that were strange coming from him, but not bad to listen to. 

The sound drifted closer, becoming whistling, and Sharky glanced over at him from under the brim of his hat.

John pulled up the chair next to him and handed him a bottle. The rest of the six-pack he set down in the space between them.

“I was going to give it to you on the way out, but it seems a waste to keep on waiting when now’s the perfect time.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Sharky said, cracking the beer open.

It wasn’t anything that he was familiar with, however, and after taking a drink of it, eyed the label. Smooth and with a coffee-taste chasing it, it wasn’t his usual combo by any means.

He took another drink, rolling it around in his mouth, and noticed John was watching him. His eyebrows had drawn together as he studied him, and Sharky tried not to choke down the rest of the mouthful before clearing his throat.

“You, uh, wanna tell me what that means?”

“Hmm?” John tilted his head as the look intensified, but his eyes widened. “That wasn’t- it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. I was checking to see if you liked it, and clearly there’s something lacking.”

 _Fuck._ Now he’d done it. “What? Nah, it’s all good, man. I’d never look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not with beer and shit, it’s just not what I’d buy. Not down at the Eagle when I’m three beers in and looking to get blasted fast, at least.”

John considered this for a few seconds and nodded. “I see.”

“And don’t go thinking I’m being ungrateful or nothing. ‘Cause after a day like this, you want something to take the edge off right. This works. Well, that and, er, just…”

He didn’t think blurting out, ‘Man, just really getting _fucked_ ,’ was something worth sharing. Not with John at least, no matter how true it would’ve been. So, he let the sentence stay unfinished for a few while he tried to come up with another way to end it.

It wasn’t easy, and as Sharky idly scratched his goatee, he mostly gave up the fight. “You know. Just burning that shit off. Constructively."

That got an eyebrow raise. “Constructively?”

“Yeah, constructively. Least that’s how I like my fucking to go.” John blinked at him, clearly waiting for him to explain further, and Sharky made his go-to gesture a little more suggestive just to mess around a bit. “Teamwork makes the dream work, am I right?”

That was a look he’d never think he’d get out of John. Ever. And ranking the others he’d been able to score so far that day, it shot straight to number one. “Ah.”

“But failing that, drinking works. And if you want one too, go right ahead. Sucks drinking alone anyway. Never been a fan of it before, and you won’t find me liking it now.”

He grabbed one of the bottles, holding it out to John directly.

Left blinking slowly at him, Sharky had to wiggle the bottle at him to break John out of the daze he’d settled into, but once he did, John held his hand up.

“No, that’s…I don’t drink. Not often at least. Not anymore.”

“No?” Sharky frowned, taking it back. “Not liking it? Needed a break from it? Like no judging or anything, you do you. Just curious is all.”

John thought it over, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he sat back in the chair. It almost seemed like he was going to drop it all together, but eventually broke the silence.

“Let’s say that drinking to excess was a habit that came easily to me when I was younger. It wasn’t easy to work my way back from it. Or even to cut it down to a level that was manageable, but I had help. And without that, there’s no telling what state I would be in right now.”

“But this…me drinking in front of you, that’s not bothering you any?”

He shook his head. “In limited numbers and in limited company I find no problem with it. Bars can make it complicated, but with the right people even that can be tuned out as well. I can focus on them and what they’re saying. Enjoying what they’re sharing with me instead of thinking about how fine the whiskey at the table nearby must be.”

John closed his eyes for a few seconds, and tapped a finger against his lips.

“A shame, really. But it’s for the best.”

“Huh.” Sharky gave the label another once-over, and held it up. “Who picked this out then?”

“Why, I did. It was a gift. Handing that off to someone else, especially to either of my brothers, though I love them dearly, would’ve been unacceptable. Joseph has zero interest in alcohol, and Jacob is…straightforward with what he likes. There’s little nuance to it, and I suspect anything would do given the opportunity. So, lucky for you,” he said, smirking, “though I haven’t tried it, I still have an eye for taste.”

Sharky scrunched up his face mid-drink, showing John exactly what he thought of that.

John took one look at him, his puffed-up cheeks rounding out a scowl, and laughed.

The sound made Sharky go into a coughing fit, pounding on his chest to clear it all out. All while John continued, holding a hand over his mouth as it tapered off into a soft chuckle.

“Not cool, man. Not fucking cool,” Sharky rasped, downing more liquid to help soothe his throat.

“Me? I’m not the one at fault here. In fact, I think you were about to disagree with me.”

“Whatever.” Sharky needed a topic change and fast. “So, how’d you get it?”

He raised the bottle in the direction of the plane. From what he could see of it under the edge of the tarp, it was pretty slick, like something out of an old World War II movie, and John’s eyes followed him to it.

“Affirmation?”

“Affirm-what?” Sharky gave him a look. “Seriously? You into the power of positive thinking, or something?”

“…The name does have importance to me, yes,” John said, quickly following up the statement with, “but the story’s a little long-winded. And I don’t think you want to hear me talk on and on, for the sake of talking, to begin with.”

He looked uncomfortable. More so than Sharky had seen him yet, and he got the impression it was a touchy subject.

“I don’t know. Could be some pretty neat shit. The plane, that is. Better if it’s an older one too, ‘cause it might’ve been in some real dogfights. …But that’s the kind of thing that gets you ghosts, and hauntings, and all sorts of weird events like the kind they document only to leave a bunch of VHS tapes behind. Which I’m down for any of that, but you need a camcorder and I roasted mine the last time Hurk and I tried-“

“It’s not haunted.”

Sharky gave him a skeptical look. “Like, you sure? ‘Cause sometimes this shit don’t start until years after you get it.”

“It’s not, and I’ve had no such ‘events’ since acquiring it. But it does have history.” John leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before aiming an amused look Sharky’s way. “And since you’ve twisted my arm into it, I suppose I’ll just have to tell it.”

Not that he twisted it too hard, or at all. Sharky almost told him so too, choosing to down the rest of his beer instead.

But over the next hour John told him everything he knew about it. Where the original planes were first built, when they were used, and how many were made at the time. How this model had seen light use decades back, was now in need of serious repairs to bring it back into working shape, and had been about to be junked. John had caught word of it due to hanging in those circles - plus making way too many model planes as a kid - and shoved a wad of cash in the collector’s face before any no’s could be thrown around.

Because John had fallen in love with the thing on sight. Known he’d wanted that plane to be his, but had to get behind the controls to be sure.

And when he was in the air?

“Perfection,” he said, his tone soft. “Nothing compared to it. To the rush that came from rising high above the world below. Losing yourself in it. Completely.”

A faraway look fell over him after that.

It hung around long enough for Sharky to realize he’d been holding his breath and waiting for him to continue. But John shrugged it off, going back to the animated way he’d been talking before. If he’d thought the humming was weird earlier, this was right in the same ballpark.

Because John was John. A grade-A asshole inside and out.

This? This wasn’t John. 

This John kept on talking. Didn’t drop the conversation as they crossed from planes to history, but Sharky found he didn’t want to stop him either. Just let him go on, using his hands to show off various flying techniques, or to draw out in the air what was running through his head as he described it. Those same motions drew his attention to the tattoos lining the inside of his wrist. 

The inked planes resting below John’s watch stood out, and it reminded Sharky of the flames running up his own forearm. How much of an impact that alone had on him as a whole, and he wondered how far that love of flying ran.

It was always cool to listen to someone that was really into what they were talking about. Like seriously digging it to the point that they’d perk up whenever asked, and you could read it clear as day.

John was no exception to this, content to keep on talking however long Sharky would allow him to. He just didn’t expect any of that to be shared with him. _Ever_.

When Sharky eventually stopped the conversation to mention heading back, John almost looked disappointed. Sighing dejectedly, John admitted that maybe he’d taken up more of his time than intended, but there was no need to worry about the boathouse after that.

Stunned, Sharky waited for the correction. Some sign that John was pulling his leg or fucking with him, but none came. And calling him on that hadn’t earned the reaction he’d expected either. Only a repeat of what John had told him before.

“You’re free to go. Today’s work is done, and after indulging me for as long as you have, I thought you’d be happy to leave.”

“Uh, yeah. Fuck yeah, but…this is kind of like one of those moments where you’re wondering if there’s like, some kinda hidden catch to it.”

“Catch? You’ve helped not only me, but Joseph as well, so I believe today’s portion of your debt has been paid in full. And don’t worry, there’s no fine print you’re missing here. Not this time,” he said, growing more amused by the second. “But if you’re so set on staying, I’m sure I can come up with plenty of other things for you to tend to.“

“Nah, I’m just-I’m going.”

“And as for the beer, you’re more than welcome to leave the rest-“

Sharky grabbed for it as well, and he could’ve sworn John looked pleased he did. “Gift beers, you don’t leave. You know, like horses. ‘Cause you know with gift horses, mouths, and shit like that, it’s just fucking rude not to appreciate it.”

“Horses and mouths notwithstanding, of course.”

Setting his chin on top of his hand, John watched him fumble for another minute through an attempt to peace out before finally shooing him away instead. The added push was all Sharky needed, and he left.

He walked all the way to his car, clutching a six-pack that he pledged to polish off before the day was out, and the minute the door was closed behind him, slapped his cheek. Did so at least two more times to make sure he was still sitting in that seat, beer in hand, and not sleeping it off somewhere.

Nope. He was there. The beer – also present – was cold by his side, and after popping the next bottle open, found it more refreshing on the second go.

Horses and mouths indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might be a bit of a longer wait due to some extended edits (and it being massive), but hopefully won't take too much more to wrangle. And as always, thank you all for checking this out!

“So, where is it? Where’s all of the shit-talking I used to look forward to? Like, by now I was getting ready for the good stuff, but it’s running out.”

Sharky paused, dropping the tire back down into the back of Hurk’s truck. “About what?”

“Really?” Hurk asked, gaping at him. “You know, the asshat that’s been blackmailing you into doing his dirty work for the last month and a half? Thinking he’s slicker than a greased pig, and he might be because who the hell knows what he uses to keep his hair like that. And palms. You grease those too, not just for jerking, and cuz, you’re killing me here.”

“It’s…I’m not gonna lie, he’s really wigging me out at times. Acting like it’s good to have me around to help and shit. ‘Cause I don’t always work on the boathouse. I’ve helped Joe, I’ve helped move stuff around on the airstrip, I’ve run stuff down to the Peggies’ church. And yeah, being told ‘you’re going to do this today’ instead of doing what I was planning on doing sucks, but the Peggies are kinda nice.”

He wasn’t thinking much of it when Hurk grabbed the firehose running out front. Jerry-rigged outside, it was usually his last-ditch effort when any of the fires outgrew their boundaries.

So, it was easy enough to grab. Easy enough to aim, and - in Hurk’s case - easy enough to point and shoot, especially while he kept his mouth running, none the wiser.

“And John’s all right, too. I know it’s kind of-whoa, whoa, what the-“ A wave of freezing cold water hit his chest, and Sharky sputtered as he threw his hands up. “What the fuck, man? Jesus, just cool it! Cool it!”

Hurk aimed it up and away, and jabbed a finger at him. 

“Straight talk. You point me to the spot in the woods where my fave cuz’s tied up and waiting to be beamed up, and I swear I’ll let you go. ‘Til then, you better talk faster, because I don’t even know where to go with ‘Oh, John and the Peggies? Yeah, they’re all right.’”

Teeth chattering, Sharky shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. It’s better. Like he’s decided it’s okay to be a person for once.”

This time he was hit in the face, and he threw both middle fingers Hurk’s way before finally wrangling the hose away from him.

“That’s up my nose now,” he grumbled, feeling it burn as he forced air through it. “Up my nose, which is one of the top ten worst feelings to deal with. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

The spray at Hurk mid-apology was kind of a jerk move on his end, but Hurk had earned it. That and the noogie, as Sharky wrangled him under his arm. If he was going to be forced to drip-dry out here, he wasn’t dealing with that shit alone.

The roar of an engine overhead made him loosen his grip, however. Both of them glanced up, their attention won by the plane soaring by.

Usually Sharky would catch one every once in a blue moon out over here. With the steep hills, it wasn’t always best if you needed to land the plane in an emergency, but that didn’t stop anyone from taking them as high as the pilot wanted it.

This one wasn’t too high in the sky, though. Painted a darker color, it cut a fine line through the air above as it climbed. Spinning in a smooth arc, it curved - rounding back - and Hurk let out a low whistle.

“Look at that, huh? Bet Nick gets up to all kinds of fancy shit up there when he’s off the ground.”

“Yeah. Should ask him if he’d take us up sometime.”

Watching the plane loop back, the pull was almost strong enough to make him want to book it to Nick’s right now. He’d always been curious about the high that came with being in the air; how that ramped up during a dive, or even on a sharp turn.

Something about this plane bugged him, though. Like there was something he was missing that should’ve hit, but wasn’t.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve been up in a bunch of choppers, man, and it’s real sketchy once the cross-winds hit. Gets my lunch doing a loop-de-loop hairier than any airshow’s special, and that feeling even hits when I’m in Tulip.”

“Why? Your ma’s damn good at what she does.”

“It’s always squirrely, feeling the entire thing rock back and forth, back and...” Hurk paused, and slapped at Sharky’s waving arm. “What’re you doing? He can’t see us from down here.”

“And why not? Yeah, he’s – or she, could be one badass babe up there - not skimming the ground, but they’re low enough to see what’s down here if they angle it right.”

Almost as if listening, the plane came back over; the roar of the engine echoing in the air as it came closer. Getting a better look at it now, he could see more of the slick paint job; the dark grey really reminding him of a color he’d seen recently.

As in, within-the-last-couple-of-weeks-or-so recent. Like in a hangar, half-hidden under a tarp.

Finally slapping those last missing puzzle pieces into place, it all clicked this time, and Sharky’s eyes widened. 

“Uh, I think that’s John.”

“Say what?”

Hurk’s surprise wasn’t too far off from his own. “Dude, that’s his plane. I don’t think anyone else around here’s got a ride like that.”

Or even in that style, period. It stood out in the sky, and Sharky almost laughed to himself. He _would_ want that attention, and showing off while he was at it? Seemed like a standard thing he’d try for, if given the shot - and right now? He looked set on taking it.

Diving down, his breath caught as the plane soared in a set line towards the ground. Daring to get as close as possible - cutting it a lot closer than he would’ve if given the chance - only to shoot back up above the trees, spinning on the exit.

Yeah, that was John.

Whistling loudly, Sharky whooped before punching Hurk in the shoulder. “Oh, come on. That was pretty fucking neat.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hurk cracked soon after, smiling. “Okay, it was pretty rad, but if that is him, and we ever run into each other and get to talking about it, we ain’t saying shit. Not a single word set on complimenting, talking nice, or doing any of that. Period.”

The plane didn’t come back this time, heading out over the fields as it faded from view.

“Nope,” Sharky said absently, as he kept his eyes skyward. “Not a single fucking word.”

* * *

Later that day when he messaged John to tell him he was heading in, he didn’t get his usual answer.

_Busy in the hangar. Stop by there, will you?_

The doors were open as he pulled up outside, and he couldn’t see John when he stepped out. His plane was front and center, one of the side panels open with a tool cart rolled up next to it, and he walked up to get a closer look.

“Tempting as it is, try not to stick your hand in there.”

Sharky held both up, and quickly stepped back. “I didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t say you did anything.” John walked up from behind, wiping his hands down with a towel, smirking all the while. “Just wouldn’t want to lose a finger now. That would be a surefire way to ruin an evening.”

Against all odds, he hadn’t lost one yet. Not to any of his homemade whizzlers, not to any of the cherry bombs, and not to that one incident with the paper cutter in school. Now, really would be a lame time to do it, and in front of John? He’d never live it down.

Flexing his fingers - all ten of them - he shoved both hands into his pockets, and turned towards him.

Dressed in his version of casual, the shirt John was wearing was still too pricey to be anywhere near oil or heavy machinery, but that didn’t faze him. His hands were dirty and he was doing the work. Actually getting in there and taking care of it, instead of shoving it onto someone else, and Sharky could respect that.

But the moves he pulled in the air earlier? Thinking back on them made a whistle want to slip out. John could fly. There was no fucking doubt about it, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to catch him up in the air again at some point.

“So, uh…you take her out today?”

“I might’ve had to check to see how things were running,” John said with a shrug.

“You fly out over towards the Henbane?”

John raised his head, eyeing him curiously. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“See, I was out with my cousin Hurk. Just unloading some tires to use for um, crafting purposes.”

“Crafting. I never took you for the type.”

“Not like the kind with paper, glue, and scissors. Like tire sculptures, or just taking the shit apart to see what we can get out of it, ‘cause there’s at least twenty things you can do with a worn-out tire. We’ve honed it down to an art, man.”

John said nothing further, only examined his hands as he wiped off more of the dirt. He looked up to catch Sharky’s eye while he worked, reminding him that he’d been telling a story before he’d trailed off.

Sharky cleared his throat. Loudly. “Uh, anyway. You, flying.”

John redirected his attention to his hands, but Sharky didn’t miss the way his lips had curved up. “I thought it was you, working?”

“Me, working, distracted by you, flying, and I know I got twisted around in the middle of that, but I saw you earlier. Your plane flying over my house. Now you’re the only guy around here with anything coming close to having one of those warplanes they’d call you in to borrow for re-enactments, movie deals - or, hell - for admiring and shit, so don’t go denying it. And don’t go fucking with me either, ‘cause I know what I saw.”

“Good eye. Sharper than I expected.” John set the towel down on the cart, and walked over to the plane. “Perhaps you can put that eye for detail to good use tonight.”

“What?”

“Affirmation does need some tuning. I was hoping to have it finished before you came by, but…” John frowned, eyeing the engine with distaste. “As you can see here, I’m not quite done yet.”

“Ah, I get that. Shit never works out how you plan it, not with cars, bikes, and I guess planes fit in there too. You wanna get that oil changed before the sun’s up? Should take twenty to thirty minutes max, giving you time to see if the tires are bald enough to turn the road into a dirt-covered slip and slide. Probably would've noticed before then, but it's good to check. And if you’re looking at that, might as well try the brakes.”

He watched John roll over the tool cart, giving him a glance over his shoulder as he did so. Taking the gesture as a signal to keep on going, Sharky took a place just behind him by the cart, and settled in to watch him work.

“…And that weird leak you forgot about two weeks ago? Kiss your afternoon goodbye, ‘cause your radiator’s busted and might’ve been roasting your car from the inside out.”

“Sounds like someone’s speaking from experience.”

“Man, you don’t even know how many times I’ve had my shitbox crater on me. And I take care of it. Maybe not using the stuff that’ll keep the mechanic off of my back if I need to bring it in, but it runs. And I can keep it going on nothing but lint, duct tape, and quarters if I have to.”

“And somehow, in spite of that, it hasn’t exploded or found a way to catch on fire?”

“It did catch on fire. Once.”

John’s eyebrows flew up. “With you in it?”

“Sort of. I might’ve hopped out right after the smoke started coming, ‘cause that crisped-up burnt smell ain’t normal even with a busted heater, but I handled it. Drove it right on down to the Spread Eagle just in time for Happy Hour, too.”

Blinking at him, John slowly turned back to the engine. “Is that the same car you’ve been bringing here?”

“Yep.”

John paused again. “The one that _I’ve_ ridden in?”

“Same one. Drove it, too.”

A few emotions crossed John’s face then. Disbelief held on the longest, as he turned to look right at Sharky.

“What? Like I said, it runs. Long as it does that, I don’t need anything fancier than that to get around. And, hey, if that shit ever does go up and someone needs to handle it, you know I’m damn near certified by this point.”

“Knowing that the county’s resident pyromaniac should be able to put out the fire he also started is not as reassuring as it sounds.”

Sharky frowned. “Yo, you really wanna say that? Seeing as you’re someone that keeps talking shit, all while needing people to call you, confide in you, and hire you for the whole defending-them-in-court thing? Not doing great on the being-anything-but-a-dick part. Just saying.”

John narrowed his eyes, but didn’t fight the point. Just went back to work, and Sharky wasn’t sure what to do with the victory.

Shaking it off, he crossed his arms and tried not to fidget as he watched him. Doing nothing at all was the real challenge, having no choice but to be patient and keep an eye on John instead.

But he hadn’t kicked him out, or told him to go where he was needed most. He was sure he would’ve told him to head down to the boathouse by now - or hell, that he would’ve gone on his own - but he didn’t feel like leaving yet. Not even after the dig. Curiosity won this fight, and he’d let it do its thing for a little while longer.

Glancing over at him, John gave it a second and gestured towards the cart. “Can you hand me that wrench?”

Sharky followed his line of sight towards it. Taking it, he handed it over and couldn’t hold his tongue any more. 

“So, you do all of this on your own?”

“It’s important to be able to identify problems as they appear. I could hire someone to do that for me. Easily leave this to them, but having that knowledge beforehand - especially if I do end up having to land - is crucial. And I refuse to let willful ignorance prevent me from fixing anything well within my power and ability. That, and laziness.”

“Laziness?”

“What’s my problem becomes someone else’s to fix. To mend. Affirmation is my responsibility. Shouldn’t I be well aware of how it’s operating before I take off? That kind of carelessness can be prevented.”

“Makes sense.”

“I hope so. Any pilot would do the same if they had any degree of pride in their skills.”

Sharky rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, guess Nick goes through the same checks too. And if I had one, guess I’d have to break out the old toolbox and get into it.”

“Treated better than your car, I would hope?”

“Uh, still fucking rude for one, and two, hell yeah I would. Shit, the closest I’ve come to flying, period, was through honoring Clutch Nixon a few years back – rest his badass, no-longer-beating heart – and I was airborne long enough to love it. If I had a plane, I’d treat her right.”

Sitting up, John gave him a long look. “That doesn’t count.”

“What don’t count?”

“Stunt driving isn’t close to the same thing.”

“So you say, but you haven’t taken a motherfucking dive off of a cliff, amigo.”

“It’s not-” John pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed. “There are measures taken.”

“Yeah, and I know you gotta do more than mess around with your joystick up there, but the fall’s real. The pounding in your heart as it just-” He clenched his fist, and let out a breath, “Fuck, man, you feel alive coming back from that. And get one hell of a massive boner while you’re at it.”

Lowering his hand, John leveled a flat stare at him.

“Yeah, had to give that last one a solid seven point five out of ten. Hell, maybe an eight.”

Still clenching his fist, Sharky held the eye contact, grinning awkwardly all the while. At least until he noticed the marks on John’s face. Three small dark spots, all of which came from his equally stained fingers.

The snicker slipped out before he could help it. “You, uh, got a little something on you.”

Gesturing towards his face, John reached up and nearly added another before glancing down at his fingers. “Shit.”

“Yeah, dude. Might be able to connect the dots at the rate you’re going.”

“Let me just…where did that get to?”

He sorted through the items on the cart before finding the discarded towel, and checked it before swiping at his face.

“Might wanna go to the left.” John shifted it, the spot turning into a streak, and Sharky grimaced. “Uh, maybe to the right?” Streaked again. “Huh. Think you might wanna go back to what you were doing the first time.”

“You aren’t helping,” John said, slapping down the towel to search through the items on the cart. “So, how about you go occupy yourself over there, and we’ll get back to this when I’m certain I’m not covered in dirt.”

John had pointed towards the refrigerator, and Sharky gave him a passing glance before skipping over towards it.

“Could be worse, man. Not like it’s a sharpied dick, or anything.”

Prying the doors open, Sharky didn’t know what he was looking for at first. He knew John had hidden the mystery beer here last time, but that wasn’t what he spotted. No, on the shelves was a pack of his old faithful, and he felt a tear come to his eye.

“Is that acceptable?”

Sharky reached in and held up the six pack, sighing dreamily as he hugged it to his face. “Amigo, I think you’re my new best friend now.”

He heard John scoff somewhere behind him, and turned to see him parked in front of a small handheld mirror. One of the streaks was a bonafide line traveling up the side of his face now, and smeared more when John swiped a finger through it. Tossing the mirror back onto the cart, he clenched his jaw, and went right back to the plane without even waiting for him to come back.

“So, John,” Sharky started, popping the cap off of the beer, “you want me to stick with you up here, dude? ‘Cause I was going to head on down to the river at some point. Just looked like you needed me more up here than there at the time, and…”

“There’s no need.” John replied, his back still to him. “You’ve been making significant progress lately down at the boathouse. Anything else would put you ahead. And after staying up here as long as you have, you’ve earned the time to yourself, if you want it.”

Free to go? Again?

That had him scratching his head as he polished off the beer fast. “Uh, okay. Like, I can do whatever the hell I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

That was music to his ears. At least it would’ve been every other week leading up to this one.

Thinking it over for a while, Sharky tried to think of anything he would’ve done with the time. Anything pressing he’d set aside to come out here after helping Hurk earlier, but couldn’t put his finger on a single thing. Just a whole lot of nothing that would’ve led to a night spent in his underwear on the couch mixing together shit he probably shouldn’t have, or up at the trailer park tuning the speakers.

So, when he looked back over towards the plane, he aimed the bottle in his hand towards it. “You still need someone up here?”

There was the sound of metal hitting metal as John froze. But when he turned to face him, there was no mistaking his surprise.

"What?" Sharky shrugged. “I’ve got the rest of the day to myself, and usually that’s spent doing jack and shit when work’s not coming in, so…if you need it, I’m here. Not that it’s really that big of a deal anyway, you know?”

That got him a smile. One that John held onto long after Sharky expected him to drop it, and he chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“This’ll be the highlight of my day, and I’d like to stick around. Unless you want me out.”

He thought it over, but not for longer than a minute. “If I did, I would’ve told you so.”

“So, back to work?” Sharky asked, starting to smile himself.

John stepped back and held out a hand towards the plane. “Back to work.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is pretty long, but I didn't have the heart to break it up at any point and it would've hurt it to do so. Thank you to everyone that's checked this out, by the way!
> 
> There's a companion fic to go with this chapter now, found [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779282) Following shortly after the end of this, John's got a few thoughts to share about the night's events.

Maybe the work schedule wasn’t as ironclad a thing as it used to be.

John liked routine, sure, and had been real anal about it when Sharky had first started out, but there was a flexibility to it now. It was no longer always about when, so long as it was done, and he could work with that.

So, he took a morning off when he needed it. Took on a few more jobs around town for anyone willing to let him shoulder it, and if there was any overlap, all it took was one message to clear it up. John was willing to work with him now, and that alone was a relief.

...But if some nights lead to more chances to hang with him one-on-one without working, Sharky didn’t complain either. Got more time around John’s plane, and even got to pitch in when it came to working on his car too.

The real shocker for him on days when he did have to work, though, had been the fresh boards and nails set. The signs that someone else had been working down there when he hadn’t.

When he’d asked, John didn’t confirm it. He didn’t deny it either, but after ten minutes of standing around and talking with him, he grabbed a nearby hammer and took a spot right next to him. Went right to work, without even batting an eye, and Sharky couldn’t believe it. Grinned brightly at him as he punched him in the shoulder, and found he _wanted_ John there for once.

This was starting to feel a whole lot like he’d made a friend.

One that was cagey in a whole lot of ways still, and one he couldn’t exactly pop down on the couch with for a weekend of pizza, beer, and porn to sort through, but close. And thinking it over, he didn’t find himself minding the change all too much either.

But some nights John needed to shift things around, and when Sharky woke up that morning nursing a hangover, he had a message waiting for him.

 _Family,_ John mentioned, the text sent at an hour that made his head pound harder. _Have to reschedule._ _Sorry._

 _no bg deal_ he sent back, fumbling at his phone. _hollar if you need me ltr no plns_

Then went right back to sleep. With the day open, he spent the morning seeing how long he could go without pants before anyone else dropped by. 

All too quiet after that, he’d nearly gone stir crazy when Hurk called, wanting his expertise on a special job. One that was better suited to two heads rather than his one. Or better yet, four hands, each for holding a stick of their brand of high explosive. That’s how they fished, and sure, it stirred up every other critter in the area, but as long as they weren’t ambushed by bears or cougars, it was a risk worth taking.

Mid-throw was when his phone went off. Just a message, not a call, but it made his pipe bomb go wide, and nearly had the two of them go for a dunk themselves.

_Change in plans. Come over._

No further clarification, no explanation from John; just those words. Not that he went off on long tangents through text, but it was the quickest turnaround Sharky had seen yet, and he actually pulled out his phone to call him.

Holding a finger to one of his ears to block some of the sound, he waited. Heard the echo of an explosion in one, and ringing in the other only to get nothing but John’s voicemail.

“Hey, I’m going to have to cut out on this.”

 _“Now?”_ Hurk asked, with a stick of dynamite in each hand. “Just when I was thinking of getting ol’ Sally out?”

Sharky never held up well in the face of his cousin’s disappointment, especially when he pulled out that tone of voice, but held strong. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s…I’ve got this weird message to check out, and you can never tell if it’s gonna be the good kind or the bad kind until it’s hitting you in the face, and there’s not a whole lot to go on here.”

“Fine, get on out, go, go, go. I’ll be here for a while, but if I catch something cool you’ll be sad you missed out.”

* * *

Pulling up to John’s place, Sharky still hadn’t pinned down what the problem was. The boathouse catching fire wasn’t likely. He’d put out any cigarettes over by the picnic table, ‘cause he’d made too much progress there to blow it now.

Ticking off other options on his fingers, he narrowed them down as he made his way to the front, and was still down to two when he hit the doorbell.

The door swung open, but John wasn’t the one waiting on the other side.

It was Jacob Seed.

Ex-military. Private. Rocked the rowdiest set of scars he’d ever seen on a person. At least, judging from the ones he could see on his face. Probably hunted guys in the woods for sport, or at least thought about it, and had the training to do it if he wanted to.

Sharky could count on his fingers the number of times he’d run into the guy outside of the odd job in the mountains, but he knew he wasn’t the kind, friendly, approachable type. No, standing taller than most, Jacob didn’t trade more than a handful of words with anyone outside of Eli Palmer, and maybe the local hunters up north.

And if he thought John was bad, Jacob’s stare was a full-blown weapon. It made Sharky squirm on the spot. 

“Uh, yo.”

“Boshaw.”

“How’s it going?” he asked, smiling a little too wide to keep it casual.

Jacob shrugged. “It’s going. You?”

“Kinda. Something’s always going. it’s just not going much right now if you get what I’m-well, what I’m getting at.”

_Get what I’m getting at? What the hell was that?_

The longer Jacob kept him there, the more he was going to try and fidget his way out of there, and he knew he was being read. Maybe even being messed with at this point, but he didn’t cut and run. Not yet.

“Is John around?”

“You here for something?”

“Yeah it’s…you know about the whole working-with-your-younger-bro thing, right? How I’m down by the river, putting shit up, and trying to make that entire area pretty again? Well, he got a hold of me. Mentioned wanting to work, and thinks he can snap his fingers and I’ll jump or something.”

Jacob’s glance took on an amused bent. “Does he? How high?”

“Uh, I can jump up to three, maybe four feet, but that’s not…it isn’t-”

That was it. That was it in a nutshell, and joking about it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Groaning, he crossed his arms and didn’t even bother looking Jacob in the eye this time around. “So, is he here, or…?”

Jacob moved his head, motioning behind him, and stepped aside. “He’s upstairs.”

With the path now open, Sharky took it a little faster than needed, not wanting to hang back too much or stay close to Jake. But that left him standing in the middle of John’s ranch house - and seeing the whole thing in full for the first time was a lot to take in at once.

Because when he’d mentioned loving nature shit, this was that on steroids. Like someone had told John this was what a cabin should’ve looked like instead of what one actually was. The antlers, the chandelier, the fucking bear skin rug? All surrounding one giant, roaring fireplace? It wasn’t even cold yet, and John had the whole thing done up to the nines.

That had him chuckling as Jacob took a few steps towards him. 

“Something funny?”

Jolting slightly, Sharky shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“I, uh…no. Okay, a little. You ever see those Hallmark movies? The ones set at Christmas, or just up in the mountains?”

Jacob craned his head towards him. 

“Y’know, the kind where two people are snowed in, having to wait it out and huddle for warmth and shit?”

“No.”

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t seen too many either, but he’d seen the one. Hadn’t even been one of those parody pornos dressed up as one, so he had some genuine experience there.

“Well, uh, the place looks like that. Like, John’s staging it for something along those lines. Just for cuddling, huddling, and uh…yeah. Holiday stuff.”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff and things, yeah.” That actually got a snort out of Jacob, and Sharky gave himself a mental pat on the back. “I’m serious. Like that couch is primed for mistletoe and some uh, ho ho-holy shit, I’ll stop now.”

There was the sound of a door being slammed, and Sharky jumped. Seconds after, he caught John on the upper level as he strode towards the stairs, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Sharky called up to him. “Yo, man. Thought I’d need to-“

That’s when he caught the dark look crossing John’s face for the first time. That, and the actual speed with which he was walking. Asking was a mistake, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Uh, John? You okay, amigo? You want me to come back another-“

John grabbed his arm as he passed by, and dragged Sharky along with him. Right past a concerned Jake, and right past the front door, leading him down towards the dirt road.

“Whoa, hey, wait!”

Nothing clicked, not his words and not the way he tried to pull away. John was a man possessed, focused only on a single point, and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

“Seriously, dude, stop!”

Sharky planted his feet, and yanked his arm out of the grip. That brought John to a stop, and Sharky watched him slowly turn towards him. Breathing harder than he should’ve been, Sharky took off his cap and brushed a hand through his hair. 

“What the fuck, man?”

Tense, and with his jaw locked, John didn’t even bother giving him a response. Just a stare that would’ve killed any other person dead if he’d had the ability. Still, he wasn’t chasing him off, or leaving, and that made Sharky keep on trying.

“You wanna talk or something? You really look like…”

“What _I want_ ,” John bit out as he walked right up to him, “is to get as far away from that fucking house as possible. I don’t care where as long as it’s not _here_.”

Sharky sucked in a breath, not prepared for that level of venom or John’s sudden proximity, and let it out. “Uh, okay. Shit, let’s…let’s go then. Not like I was in the mood to work anyway.”

Shuffling around him, Sharky started back towards his car, and waved for John to follow. The heat of his stare wasn’t as bad from this distance, but it didn’t let up until John dropped it to climb into the passenger side of the vehicle. He fired the car up after that, hoping the damn thing wouldn’t stall, and the two sped out of there before anyone could come calling.

“Now I know what works for me whenever shit like that gets me down.”

Sharky turned on the radio only for John to flip it off. Balking at him again, Sharky noted that this time the road was the one having to deal with John glaring at it, and he tried to keep as light a tone as he could manage.

“Anyway, you need an outlet. Something to kick all that negative shit in the balls hard enough to make three family lines regret it. So, you can shrug it off, get up, and go back to living life like you want to. Maybe this won’t be your thing every time, but I think you might like this.”

“…Like what?”

“Well, I’d explain it to you, but this is one of those things where it’s better just to give it a try. Not to spoil any of the surprise as we head on out, but it rhymes with…shit. What rhymes with burn?”

Urn. Turn. Learn. Yearn. That was a good one. Not that he needed it for anything, but it was good to know. Fuck. Did he say burn out loud too?

Swearing under his breath, Sharky shook his head. “Anyway, a little ‘Burn, Baby, Burn’ never hurt anyone. Least, not anyone worth knowing.”

John said nothing, leaving Sharky to listen to the sound of the road as it crunched underneath the car’s tires, but right as he’d started tapping out an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel just to break it up, he heard him sigh.

“Hey, I promise it won’t be lame. Yeah, it’s not for everybody, but…”

He stopped talking when he saw John place his head in his hand. Covering his eyes, Sharky heard the catch in his breathing, and wished like hell he had the right words for him.

Unable to offer anything else, Sharky shifted his eyes back to the road. “Yeah.”

* * *

“Now I know you’ve seen it once before, and it ain’t fancy,” Sharky said after pulling up to his house, “but I’ve got a place to sleep, a rocking sound system, and when I need it, lots and lots of storage space for…stuff. Like real fun stuff, but not the illegal kind, ‘cause I don’t want you thinking that. Well, not a lot of it, just some of it.”

John was looking around now, taking in the area as he and Sharky got out, and Sharky led him out across the lawn.

“My house is your house, so settle on in and pull up a chair. The show’ll start soon as I can get this all together, and make it one worth waiting for.“

He shoved some wood into the area designated for his bonfires, and patted himself down before heading over to where he kept his propane. Rooting through the items, he picked up the bottle of lighter fluid – he’d start small, no need to have a full blow-out right off the bat – and glanced over his shoulder to see what John was doing.

He had approached the firepit while Sharky was busy; still silent, but looking closely at it.

“You doing good there, amigo?”

John’s head angled towards him. “Well enough.”

That he’d said anything at all was an improvement, but Sharky didn’t believe it for a second. Not with his back towards him, as he walked back to the pit.

John watched closely as Sharky sprayed the wood liberally with the lighter fluid. Then added more after, and when he tipped it over to slap at the bottom of it to get the last few drops out, John finally spoke up. 

“You’re not serious.”

“Can’t have a decent barbeque without flames, man.”

“That many?”

The wry look he gave him stopped Sharky in his tracks. Or maybe it was the way the corner of John’s mouth was inching up. In spite of everything, he’d managed that at least, and Sharky felt his mouth go dry. 

“Uh, yeah.” He held out a matchbook to him, and hoped he could keep it steady. His voice was a lost cause, but his next few words were better in line. “Kinda disappointing if you light it up only to have it fizzle out. Can’t get any perks out of that.”

“And this was your plan all along?” John’s odd semi-smile stayed in place, and only seemed to grow. “To invite me here to burn it off? Literally?”

He wasn’t wrong, but seeing as this was his usual go-to and yet _not_ , Sharky really didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty of it all. Not now, at least.

“You wanted out, and no other place in the county’s better prepped for this, so a quick ride to Boshaw Manor made sense. I know when shit’s gone south and there’s no hope of me shaking that feeling, this works, and I try to foster an environment here that’s all about letting loose when you need it. Pants-free preferred and encouraged, but by no means required.”

“Good to know,” John teased.

He hoped like hell John couldn’t clearly see what was happening with his face right now, but at this distance it was impossible not to.

“But you, uh… You seriously looked ready to rip a bear’s fucking head off, and I thought it’d help. So, here. Light it, and after we pop one off, maybe we can get more going. Kinda sad as is right now.”

Waving the matchbook in the air, he grumbled to himself as he dropped his eyes. But he felt John take the matches, and looked up again in time to see him light one.

John watched the flame dance in front of him for a few seconds, shielding it from the breeze with his hand. Leaning over to peek at it, Sharky nearly brushed shoulders with him, and wondered how long he was willing to hold onto it.

Pretty long at this rate, as the flames licked the wood and traveled towards his fingers.

“You gonna drop that?”

“In time.”

“‘Cause that’s going to get you if you let it stick around any longer.”

Not that he hadn’t let himself get distracted by the warmth of the fire before. How it flickered as it moved, wanting it all that much closer as it inched its way down towards him.

“Surely you don’t think I’m not paying attention to it.” Irritation crept into John’s voice, but he still wasn’t dropping the match.

“Seriously, man, I can treat a rowdy-ass burn if I have to, but that shit’s going to bite.“

“Charlemagne, I have it handled-“ John flicked his hand fast as he yelped in pain.

The match went out, leaving the two standing there in front of the neglected pit. Sharky tried not to, but there was no way he could keep the laugh from slipping out. John’s sharp look shut him up a second later, only breaking eye contact to keep on waving his hand.

“Yo, you okay?”

“Fuck,” John muttered, blowing on his fingers. “Everything’s fine.”

Sharky didn’t nudge him with his shoulder, but was tempted to as he watched John continue to try and sooth the burn. 

“Sure about that? I can be back in two shakes of a jackrabbit’s tail if you want.”

John didn’t waste time lighting the next match. _“I’m fine.”_

His hands went up, backing off completely. But at that point he had something else to focus on. The fire was dancing in the wind again, and when John let the match fall into the pit, Sharky didn’t take his eyes off of it for a second.

The warm glow took, then grew. Rising slowly but surely as the fire found its footing, and he let out the breath he was holding. There it was. The feeling that washed over him, one that sank down deep into his bones.

Like coming home, in a way. Every time.

Sighing in contentment, he gave John a quick once-over. His attention was on the fire too, locked onto it as he slowly rubbed his fingers together. No one ever seemed to respond to it like he did, but the focus was there, his eyebrows drawn together as he kept on studying it.

John still kept on rubbing at his fingers, though. He had to bother the singed one, even if he was too stubborn to bring it up again.

Sharky stepped back, and gave John a light tap to the shoulder. 

“Be right back. Gotta grab something.”

Jogging over to his house, he pushed open the door and made a beeline straight for his bathroom. Anything he had for first aid was scattered across the property if not left outside, so one minute became two, then became five as he rooted around the place.

Fishing the tube of burn cream out, he sighed in relief.

It had taken the edge off of some of his worst ones - the scars on his sides and back tingling as he subconsciously recalled them. Considering how often he tangoed with fire at all, he’d all but accepted it at this point, and was glad that John wasn’t rocking anything worse than what would be a light blister.

Band-aids were down to slim pickings, however. There were only five left, but he picked the best fit and made his way back out to the pit, taking a short stop by the fridge for beer and one hastily-filled glass of tap water.

Water was the last thing on his mind most nights, but John needed something out there, and Sharky tried not to stress over it too much as he rushed back out.

John started when he handed it over. 

“What’s this?” He took the glass, and eyed its contents.

“Water. You know, for drinking?” A sheepish grin inched across Sharky’s face as he made the motion with his hand. “Didn’t want to leave you hanging without anything, and my fridge’s full up with beer, so…”

“Ah. Thank you,” he said, losing the suspicious tone immediately.

He took a light sip of it and Sharky didn’t miss the way he wrinkled his nose. Probably better used to the fancy stuff they’d filter before bottling, but John still held onto it. Doing that instead of spitting it out onto the ground earned him a point or two on the ‘Don’t be an asshole’ scoreboard, but Sharky would never admit it to him.

“And those?” John asked.

“I know you said you were fine, but here.” Sharky handed the items to him, and John set his glass down. “Best stuff for burns around. Slap some of this on, and in a day you won’t even feel it.”

“Are those…dinosaurs?” John held the bandage up, flashing the green tyrannosaurus rex at him. 

“Yeah, man. Dinosaurs are badass. I don’t know if Jurassic Park was your thing or not, but I had that on repeat for a good three months after it came out. Solid gold right there, and great for hand-holding or grabbing during any tense shit.” He held his hand up as he leaned in, and waggled his eyebrows. “Guaranteed. Like sixty to seventy-five percent chance of getting some action too.”

John furrowed his brows, and kept the band-aid pinched between his fingers. Both unimpressed and unconvinced, which disappointed Sharky a little, but didn’t surprise him much either.

“Anyway, that was the first one I grabbed, but I think there’s another in there if you’re more of a triceratops fan. Or raptors?”

John slowly shook his head. “I’ve-I don’t have a preference.”

“Well, there you go. And I know you like blue and all, but green’s clearly the superior color here. Just saying.” 

He clapped him on the back, and John gave him a withering glance before putting it on.

Dragging over a couple of chairs, Sharky popped them close to the pit - but not close enough to catch any sparks - and settled in. He kicked back and wished he could’ve propped his feet up, but with the other chair in use he had to make do, and leaned as far back as the worn fabric would let him. It strained against the motion, but held, and he knew there was a still a fair chance he’d bust a hole in it, or topple over. Just not now, at least.

“…How did this start?”

Glancing over at John, Sharky sat up when he realized he’d asked him a question. “What?”

“How, or when did you start doing this? The fires? Or, whatever this ritual is.”

“Ritual? This ain’t anything fancy like that.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Sharky let out a long whistle. “But fuck, how many years has it been now?”

Well over twenty. Since that day when he’d had skating on his mind, that and Wendy. He had such high hopes going into the day only to find a whole other thing worth keeping on for.

“Would you believe my first time was at a skating rink? This old place that used to be down by Fall’s End. Neon lights, tricked out wallpapers, and all the oldies you could ask for?”

“Concerning you? Yes.”

John sounded so sure of it. Like he could see the memory just as clearly as Sharky did. That got a warm laugh out of him.

“Imagining that sticky carpet, the flat soda, and those tunes? Real nice, right? It was the highlight of my month. Getting invited out there, pulling off some of my finest moves out on the floor. But I had to set the mood before heading in, and had a roll of quarters ready and everything.”

A grin settled in, almost fond as he recalled the start of it. The promise had been there, all right. He’d finally get a chance to say something. _Do_ something, instead of dreaming about it. Funny how he’d dive into so many other things without thinking, but this? This he’d thought about. Over and over. Wanted it right.

“So?” John’s voice cut through again, shaking him out of it. “What happened?”

“I really wanted to ask this girl Wendy out. Had some good one-liners going, and had watched plenty of movies beforehand that I knew she liked. Wanted to really wow her, and show her what’s what.”

That had been the first pass of the plan. It seemed foolproof. Then he’d reached the rink after he’d crammed one too many quarters in the jukebox. Took one good look at her as he skated up, and…

John’s growing frown mirrored his own. Maybe even too well.

“It, uh-it didn’t go like I wanted. Went with my gut once I saw her, and thought I’d just -my hands started going everywhere.”

Confused, John thought over his words, and Sharky hoped he wouldn’t have to spell it out. “You grabbed her?”

“I…might’ve grabbed something.”

Realization hit John hard. “You _groped_ her?”

“Like I said, it could’ve gone a lot better! Instincts being bad and all.” Dodging his eyes, Sharky held up his hands and faced the fire. “Look, it was a dumbass move, and I got a skate to the balls for it. Still, really wish I’d tried dancing instead. No way she would’ve turned down a date with a dude pulling off a solid moonwalk. On wheels.”

“Surely,” John huffed.

Flipping him off, Sharky sighed before continuing. 

“So, I head out back. Figure I could light up a cig or something. Take the edge off that way. Well, I decided I’d light a trash can on fire too. See if I liked it, and soon the whole damn back-alley’s on fire. Like burning high with no hope of stopping. It spread, took half of the place out in the process, and yeah, it sucked. But it sucked a whole lot less after seeing that too.”

“That was…not the story I was expecting it to be.”

“Lot of people say that after hearing it. And that’s all of like, three people that even bothered listening to me while I was telling it, but it is what it is. Sucks that it took out that place, though. Seriously, had a great sound system there and everything.”

John raised a hand to his mouth, eyes on the fire instead of on him, and smiled. “Thank you. You didn’t need to share that with me.”

“Eh, it’s nothing. You asked, and I told you what’s what.”

“Not everyone’s as comfortable doing that. And certainly not even half as honest.”

John folded his hands on his lap, and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs.

“It was Joseph. Tonight, back at my ranch. He wanted to talk. This typically isn’t a problem, but he decided to do what all older brothers believe is their right, I suppose.” 

“What, like go over some fantasy football stats? Or more like rite-of-passage-type stuff, ‘cept the holy kind. ‘Cause he’s not gonna take you to a cathouse, or nothing.”

“Please never say that again,” John said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Uh, which part? The football, or the...er, the part where he’s trying to help you get laid, except not?”

“That one. You see, he wanted to talk expectations. My role in the family overall, and how he wants me to rise to them.”

“That’s uh, kinda harsh. Assuming he said some pretty rowdy shit to you.”

“Not all of it,” John admitted, “but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Usually when talking about regrets and hopes for the future, not all parties will be on the same page. He was on one, and I the other, and…I didn’t handle it as gracefully as I would’ve liked.”

“But did you think he was right?”

“I don’t know. It’s too soon to say, and I’m still not inclined to agree considering how he presented it to me.”

“But you know why he did that, right?”

John’s eyes were still on the fire, but caught his when he turned away from it. “Do you have any siblings?

Sharky shook his head. “Uh, no. Parents never planned for any of that, and they sure as hell weren’t planning on me. I’m one of those miracle babies. The kind that defy expectation, if you will. They swore up and down they’d used the pill, bagged that shit, and tried damn near everything to keep from throwing a bun in that oven. Still, nine months and some change later I popped out. Was as meant to be as my Grandmama swore I was, and…it’s weird in a way. Knowing that, and still knowing the other end of it too.”

“That you weren’t wanted?”

John was looking at him differently now. Catching something Sharky wasn’t sure even he’d see after checking five times in the mirror for it, and didn’t seem as cagey as before.

“I had someone that did want me. Wasn’t the one that had me to begin with, but that’s alright. Family’s not always blood - not directly. I got Hurk, I got my Auntie. Maybe even Xander, if she plans on keeping him around, but they give a shit about what happens to me. Let me know at least once a week too if they ain’t too busy to stop by, so it’s gotta be nice in some ways. Having brothers. Having that, at least.”

Taking in a deep breath, Sharky didn’t know how to tackle this next part. Knew he was probably going to be like a bull in a china shop, but he’d try. He had to.

“Now I don’t know enough about you all to really say much, so tell me to fuck right off if you need me to, but…they seem like the caring kind. Even though Joe’s got his whole family unit going on - his weird, not-a-cult, but kind-of-a-cult aside. And Jake’ll always give me the creeps, but I feel like you’d also warn me if he was setting me up to head out into the woods and fight me - mano a mano, ‘Most Dangerous Game’ style - so I think we’d be all right.”

“They’re not one, and he’s not about to,” John replied. “And maybe it isn’t your place to say.”

That shut his mouth. “…Sorry.”

“But you’re right.” Shifting his gaze to the ground, John’s next few words were softer, almost too quiet to hear. “Both of my brothers are all I have in this life. The ones that I would do anything for, and for years we truly thought we’d lost each other. There was no finding our way back after being separated and sent to different families. Different homes.”

John flexed his fingers, stretching them out before tightening them into a fist.

“I…was not fortunate in that regard. While I now had many opportunities open to me, I would’ve traded them in a heartbeat. Because there was evil in that house, and it was regularly visited upon me. And to cope, I needed an outlet. A way to take away what I couldn’t fix. What I couldn’t change, or stop, and make it all disappear.

“So, I turned to other sources. Went well out of my way to open myself up to new experiences. Things to excite, to make me feel…something. Anything, and no price was too great. I couldn’t see it for what it was, and was content to let it all eat me from the inside out. Because that was what gave me relief, and if they hadn’t found me when I needed them most…” John shrugged a shoulder. “I would’ve let it.”

“Fuck, I-uh, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I didn’t share that to make you feel sorry for me, or to let it be an excuse. It was a little…honesty given, for honesty gained, if that makes any sense.”

Blowing out a breath, Sharky nodded. “Kinda. Think I get what you mean there.”

“And tonight, you were right. I needed an outlet, and you… _You_ reached out to me without even thinking twice about it.” There was a sincerity there that surprised him. No dancing around it, no downplaying it. “You had no reason to open up your home to me, or do anything at all to help, but you did.”

“No reason not to.”

“Charlemagne. I haven’t given you much reason to do any of this, considering why we’re speaking at all to begin with.”

John had a point. One Sharky wasn’t going to argue, but he’d clearly overlooked a lot of the things he’d done to keep them on speaking terms. Or hell, even get friendly, because they were straddling that line, and had been ever since he’d stuck around to help him with the plane.

“Okay, so you did show up here on my doorstep. Used some strong words to get me to do some shit for you, and generally acted like a mega-dick. Admitting that’s the first step towards fixing it. ‘Cause my guess’s you wanna fix that, right?”

John pursed his lips, but said nothing. Just stared at him while his jaw tensed.

That had Sharky raising his eyebrows. “Dude, you seriously aren’t even gonna pretend to say yes to that? Not even try it?”

Glancing away, John closed his eyes. Took in a deep breath, and held onto it before sighing loudly.

“What the fuck?” Sharky muttered, watching him reach for his back pocket. “There’re like baby steps, and then you come in with this whole twelve step thing you’ve gotta work through, like it’s just that hard not to be a colossal d-”

“Done.”

Sharky paused as he took in what John held up. It was his phone.

Rolling his eyes at his confused look, John handed it over to him and pointed at the screen. “It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?” Sharky flipped through the folder John had pulled up, not sure what he was looking for. “Like the porn you knew I was gonna search for after taking this?”

“No, not _that_ ,” John replied, grinding his teeth. “The recording.”

“The…” _Holy shit._ “You got rid of it. Like, no back up, no nothing?”

“That was the only one.”

Gone. That weight - what was left of it - gone.

Sharky laughed. Laughed as relief settled deep into him, and it was the sweetest thing.

Sure, John could’ve been lying to him. Could’ve had three different places where he was stashing the file for a rainy day, but he found he believed him. He wanted to take his word for it, and found he didn’t have to jump through too many hoops for it either.

“That’s-that’s uh, thanks.”

“Thank you. For proving me wrong in a lot of ways.”

Proud motherfucker that he was, that statement nearly bowled Sharky over. But he seemed to mean it too, and he flashed John a bashful grin.

“So, uh going back to before. You need to be cool to others. Treat ‘em nice, especially if you know they’re in the middle of a rough patch, and you count too. You needed something to take the edge off, and with drinking out, there were only two options left. Sex, and burning shit, and seeing as I don’t even know what your type is, I went for the easy one.”

“Easy?” Giving him a curious look, John leaned towards him. “That arson would be the easier option at all’s fascinating to me, because then I have no choice but to ask.”

“…Ask what?”

“What is my type?”

He one-hundred percent felt John’s focus now, and might’ve felt his palms start to sweat. “You want me to guess?”

“I want you to try.”

That was a tougher question than it should’ve been, and all the answers Sharky thought he had promptly left the building.

“Uh…fuck. The ladies in the catalogs. Victoria’s Secret models. Sports Illustrated, but the swimsuit issue. Porn stars. Top dollar escorts,” he said, spit-balling for whatever a rich lawyer might like. Or Bruce Wayne. Same difference. “But the kind with nice shoes, and those big-ass fur coats.”

Or was he going more for what he’d like if he had boatloads of cash to blow? And a music video to make? Maybe. Judging by the look John was giving him, though, he didn’t agree.

“Jesus, I don’t know. You asked! So, I guessed. Thought I’d get something close if I kept on going.”

“Well, you weren’t.”

“Yeah, yeah. And you’re telling me you wouldn’t be dicking down every woman in the valley if they asked?” Sharky took a drink of his beer, and couldn’t help but grumble his next few words into it. “I know I would.”

 _“_ You’d _what?”_

He coughed, beer going right down his windpipe. That was the kind of shit that should’ve slipped out when he was buzzed, and he wasn’t even there yet. And judging from John’s response, wasn’t great to hear out loud either.

“Aw, fuck. Uh, sorry. Didn’t…didn’t mean anything weird by it. Just that you’ve got a lot of women looking - er, _wanting_ \- some real one-on-one time with you, that’s all. And if I were you, I’d take them up on it.”

John snorted, “Is that so?”

“I’m serious!” Sharky insisted, flashing an awkward grin. “Not to do any ego-jerking or anything, but you’re a good-looking guy, dude. Who’d blame ‘em for trying?”

He’d meant to look away after that, but John held his stare. Gave him a look that was like a Rubik’s Cube, and the more Sharky tried to pin down exactly what it was, the more he kept on scrambling anything and everything just to match up a single side.

“I see.” John wet his lips, dropping his eyes to his bandaged finger as he rubbed it together with his thumb. “Well, I’d hate to keep them waiting any longer than I already have. Or to disappoint them, but a few may need to wait their turn.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because surely their male counterparts deserve a chance as well? Seems only fair.”

John lowered his lashes as he looked over at him this time around, and Sharky must’ve blinked at him fifty times before his words registered.

“Oh. _Oh,_ ” he said, watching John nod his head along with him. “Well, it’s uh, I’m a…I don’t think I got anything right there, huh?”

Face burning hot, he crossed his arms and felt like kicking himself. Mostly for the whole conversation leading up to this, but now was a close second.

“Hard to be right about something you didn’t know.”

“Saying weird-ass shit to you’s not cool to begin with. Expecting a pity pass for it’s worse, and then there’s whatever the fuck this is, so I’m sorry. It’s lame as hell, but I’ve gotta get an apology out at least. And it’s probably the last thing you wanna hear or talk about, but you do whatever the hell makes you happy, long as no one’s getting hurt or nothing,” he said, wanting to get the words out, even if they weren’t neat. “And, we uh, we can talk about something else now.”

John laughed; the sound lighter than he expected. “Uncomfortable?”

“No. Kinda. Just…I’m not a talker. If you need someone to head on up, make a speech using all of the right words, making it pretty and all, you don’t go busting down my door. ‘Cause there’s ways of saying things, so it’s all meaningful and nice with no hurt feelings involved, and that ain't it. Shit, you’ve made a whole career out of it.”

Sharky tapped the bottle against his shin, and sighed.

“When I open my mouth, people usually start throwing stuff at me instead of listening. Beer, shoes, lawn ornaments, darts, you name it, I’ve dodged it. Or had someone try to hit me in the junk for it, so thanks for not doing that. And sorry again. Probably say that a couple more times before the night’s out.”

“…Hitting you would be the last thing on my mind. I promise you that.”

Dead serious, he wasn’t sure what to make of John’s tone, or the way he was looking at him.

So, after downing the rest of his beer, Sharky went for the next best thing. Nervous laughter, and more blushing like an idiot. He’d never stop at this rate.

Rubbing his hands together, he hopped up out of his seat after that. John was too intense to stare down for long, and he put some distance between them, set on hunting down the first major firework of the evening.

“Okay, so this one I usually save for the festies,” Sharky began, carrying it over in his hands. “It’s my own personal formula. Ran through it a few times trying to see if I could get the right amount of fizz, bang, and pop that everybody loves without losing a finger, an eye, or most of my hair again.”

“Did you now?” John snorted. “It’s a miracle it grew back.”

“More like both eyebrows, but yeah, ‘cause I need to keep this around,” Sharky replied, framing his jaw with his hand. The wink was extra, but that didn’t stop him. “Chicks dig guys with a little scruff to ‘em. The look’s ‘sexy renegade’, but the kind that’ll still treat you right.”

“No doubt.”

Looking him over, John tilted his head as he considered him. Let his attention focus in on him closely, until Sharky was on the verge of snapping his fingers in front of him to break the spell he’d somehow cast.

“It suits you.”

John could’ve slapped him, and it would’ve been less of a surprise than that. “Say what?”

“It suits you. Keep it to that, though. Any more and I think you’re guaranteed to lose more than an eyebrow the next time any of this backfires.”

In the back of his mind he registered John’s statement – an actual compliment which only confused him more – but didn’t get much further than that. That’s when he caught the smile John was now wearing. This one he’d earned for sure, and didn’t want to risk losing. 

Kicking his brain back into gear, Sharky blew out a breath. “So, uh…let’s see. Lighting this up, so we can have one kick-ass party. Just getting right on that shit.”

The red rocket was stabbed into the ground to the left of the pit, and Sharky held out his lighter to John. He still had the matches from earlier, but this way was easier.

When all John did was give him a questioning glance, Sharky flicked his eyes towards the rocket. “Yo, you know this whole thing’s for you, right?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. So, you kick it off. I’ve got a firework in every color, though you might want to aim them all over yonder. Nearly lit the field up straight ahead of here last time, and my PO and I ain’t gonna see eye to eye on this if another starts. Cool?”

Dropping his attention to the lighter, John reached for it. Turned it over in his hands as the corners of his mouth curved up, and eventually aimed some of that glance his way.

“Cool.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Still went with that red, huh?”

John set the paint cans down next to him, and glanced up at the boathouse. “If you recall, I had my heart set on red. Back when it was first built I hadn't thought much of it, but…maybe I was a bit more fond of it than I remember.”

“That don't mean you couldn't have changed it.” Sharky pried open the paint can with a spare screwdriver, and handed it off. “Gone for something different, but still memorable. Like orange, or yellow.”

John’s lip curled. “Yellow?”

“Yeah. Banana yellow, or shit, bright purple.”

“I was taking your opinion on this seriously, you know. Up until the word ‘banana’ slipped out.”

“Heh, slipped.” John’s flat look only made Sharky snicker more. “But can you name five things, like well-known landmarks that are yellow?” John opened his mouth, but Sharky didn’t let him finish. “And green’s my go-to, ride-or-die color, but yellow? Two thumbs up.”

“So you say.”

“It’s just the kind of thing that’ll net you a bunch of admirers. Numbers ripe for the picking. ‘Cause it’s, you know. Oozing all of that appeal. Like peel, as in a banana.”

John let out an exasperated groan, and Sharky might’ve punched the air. Maybe harder than intended. “You did not.”

“I did. Don’t think I won’t find a way to do it again. It’s the Boshaw way,” Sharky replied with a wink.

Rolling his eyes, John huffed. “I hate you.”

The two dipped the paint rollers into John's chosen red and started spreading it, painting wide red lines over the wood as they took them up the sides from top to bottom. The patches weren’t going to be done in a single coat, but each one streaked. Made Sharky’s job harder for him as he laid the paint on thick, only for John to try and correct him.

His pointed betrayal when the next five strokes didn’t come out just as perfect as he claimed they would had Sharky cracking up on the spot. 

“Nobody’s perfect,” he offered, but John kept on trying over and over until he was able to make it work.

It was hot for a late-fall day, though. Or maybe it was just the combination of the sun and the work, but he was sweating. Needing some other way to cool off than the water stashed in the cooler with them, Sharky stepped back, only to catch a view of the river.

Now that was a source guaranteed to cool him off fast.

Taking his shirt off, Sharky mopped his face with it, eyeing the water. Stared at it just long enough for the internal battle in him to be fought and won, and he made his choice.

Balling his shirt up, he took a shot for the table in the distance, and missed it completely. Missed it with his hat afterwards too, but the wind threw him off there; whipped under the hat only to send it flying off elsewhere, and Sharky watched it tumble onto the grass.

John raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Going for a swim.” Undoing his belt, Sharky slid it off and tossed it to the side. “Seriously, the water at this time of year’s gotta be perfect. Just cold enough to shock the system, but not enough to send you straight to the hospital.”

That had John shaking his head at him.

“Guess we’ll agree to disagree here, compadre, but you tell me that ain’t looking the slightest bit nice.”

His pants came off right after, and to John’s credit his eyes didn’t leave his face. “It might.”

“Well, between you and me? Might’ll do just fine,” Sharky said, smirking at him.

Shedding his shoes and socks, he went right for it. Didn’t think anything at all of how cold it was looking to be, and dove into the water. The sharp temperature difference hit almost immediately, making him suck in a breath once he surfaced; the chill of it washing right over him.

But the longer he was out there, the less it bothered him - taking the edge off in just the way he hoped. It was a great feeling, and he kept paddling around close to the pier before noticing that John hadn’t made a move to follow him. Not that he’d expected him to, but that didn’t mean some friendly peer pressure was out.

Sharky reached up to snag the end of the pier and hoisted himself up. Resting on his forearms as John walked to the end to join him, he tapped a fist against the wood.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Hell yeah,” Sharky replied, grinning up at him. “Seriously. You wanna cool off quick? This does it.”

John tapped his fingers on his thigh as he stood there, and actually looked like he was considering it. He crouched down to better talk to him, still more than a few feet higher overall. 

“I’ll take your word for it, but I have a feeling you’re just trying to give me a nasty shock.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because I can hear your teeth chattering from here.”

Snapping his mouth shut, Sharky rubbed at his lips and tossed a glare John’s way. Then an idea hit. One that had him trying not to grin behind his fingers, and dropped the smile before lowering it.

“Fine, it’s like ten degrees colder than I’d like, but still doable. Just not for longer than like, five minutes at a time. Got a hand for me?” He reached up to John, and he didn’t hesitate to take it. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Keeping his fingers clasped around his forearm, John tried to help him up, but he stayed put. 

“What are you…?”

Shock flashed across John’s face as Sharky pulled hard, yanking him right off the dock and into the water.

The water closed over Sharky’s head. Cut him off from both sound and light, leaving him only to the sound of his breath. His thoughts too, but those never really left him. Not for long, at least.

It was hard to see with what he’d kicked up, but something glinted as it floated down. Something metal, and he snatched up the discarded set of sunglasses before they vanished from sight.

Dropping low, he pushed back up and broke the surface just as a sputtering John did. Coughing, and half-blinded by his hair, John bobbed in place dipping low only when he tried swiping his hair back, and Sharky whooped.

“Badass right? But you know what they say? Ain’t no time like-”

The sharp look in John’s eyes shut him up instantly. Swimming past him, John went straight for shore, and Sharky hesitated only long enough to realize he should’ve been following. He hit land right on John’s heels and watched as he swiped his hair back, drenched to the bone.

“Yo, John, I, um, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think it’d be anything bad or nothing. Just wanted to share a, uh… _fuck._ ”

Turning towards him, John’s expression was perfectly schooled. Calmer than he’d been out on the water, but his eyes didn’t let up, and Sharky was frozen to the spot. He tilted his head, and the motion brought a strip of hair down, moving it out of place only for it to slap him on the nose.

John flinched. Reaching up slowly to glance down at what was held between his fingers, he examined it closely only for his mouth to split into a brilliant grin. Covering it with his hand, he started to laugh, continuing until his entire body was shaking.

“Uh, dude?” Sharky stood there, both of his hands held up in front of him and waited. Waited a beat, then two as John continued, genuinely laughing his way through this almost to the point of tears, and couldn’t keep a nervous smile from creeping in. “You doing okay over there?”

“You didn’t think that through at all, did you?”

Sharky watched him carefully, still not sure if it was safer for him to join in or run. “Think through what now?”

“You wanted to share a what with me?”

“Share a…like, share a good idea.”

Tutting him, John’s grin quickly became a smirk. “I distinctly recall hearing you say something a little more suggestive.”

“Share a good idea, not like share a…oh.” 

_Oh, he was not fucking serious._

“Th-that’s you thinking that!” Sharky replied, his voice strained, “I just…remember how I said you were a talker? And how I can put both feet in my mouth, and keep on running? Well, that’s what that was! Me running, ‘cept it was my mouth doing it.”

“But that may not have been the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“Uh, wait, what?" Still scrambled, Sharky wasn’t sure at all what thread they were following now.

“The swim.” John straightened his posture, all while trying to brush his hair back into place, and his smirk only grew. “Almost too refreshing in a way, and well worth the cost of doing so.”

Reaching into his pocket, John held up his phone. His very expensive, and now very dead phone, and déjà vu hit Sharky all over again.

“Don’t,” John said, interrupting the rush of thoughts early, “I needed to replace it anyway. Those, however, I’d prefer not to.”

Looking down, Sharky took in the sunglasses clenched in his hand. John’s fancy blue-lensed sunglasses, that had only survived due to a miracle alone.

John gestured towards the sunglasses, and curved a finger to guide him forward. “I’ll take them back now.”

The idea hit before he’d even taken the first step.

One for one so far, his luck was rarely good enough to gamble with repeatedly, but he was feeling good today. Pumped enough from the dive alone, he'd had a chance to see John let loose - really fucking ease off and relax for once - and he'd gladly crash and burn at the chance to have that happen twice.

Sharky held them out only to slip them on, blinking against the sudden wave of blue. “This pair’s mighty nice. Might’ve been eyeing a new pair of glasses myself.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Those are five-hundred-dollar, custom-made, specialty sunglasses.”

“Guess you want them back bad then, don’t you?” Sliding a hand behind his ear, Sharky flicked the sunglasses up and down a few times over his eyes, and didn’t bother hiding the smirk crossing his face, “‘Fraid I’ll mess ‘em up, Johnny boy?”

The nickname got the reaction he’d hoped for. John sharpened the glare until it was made of nothing but intent. That sent a thrill through him; one he was going to ride for all it was worth.

"Well?" Sharky spread his hands wide, and motioned towards himself as he stepped back. “You waiting for an invite or something?”

Then promptly turned and cheezed it towards the woods.

Running through the brush wasn’t the best choice. Doing it without his sneakers wasn't a great option either, but he’d already dedicated himself to seeing this through, and judging from the sound behind him, John was too.

Good. He’d almost be disappointed if he got away.

Ducking into spot by a nearby bush, Sharky glanced around, the shades throwing him off enough to shove them up onto his head, and knew John had the advantage here. He had shoes, could see clearly, and was too stubborn to quit.

It didn’t matter that he was though. So was he, and there was no way he’d give up now with John so close.

Sneaking, though, had never been his forte, and crashing through this, he’d left a good trail to follow. Breaking and snapping everything he could’ve collided with or trudged through along the way, had generated all sorts of noise. Shit, feeling less and less like the Predator and more like one of the guys about to be skinned by it, he settled in and barely held back from slapping dirt onto himself for any form of camo.

Though, wait. Maybe he did have the right idea there. Just grab some mud and branches, tuck in real nice and close to one of these trees with his back to it, facing out so he could see into the forest as a whole. Maybe throw some leaves into it-

Popping up behind him, John’s grin went devious in a snap. “What have we here?”

“Oh, fuck!“

He jumped up only to feel a weight slam into him, taking him down to the ground. John really wasn’t messing around, and he swore to himself as he tried to wriggle out of his hold and crawl away. John’s hands slipped due to his wet skin and his lack of clothes period, but he wasn’t budging. No, he stayed on him, and Sharky mentally upgraded him from stubborn as hell to stubborn as fuck.

He was also busy trying not to think about just how okay John was wrestling a guy in his underwear like this. John was warm up against his back, but that had nothing on the way he was practically panting into his ear. It sent a shiver straight through him, and Sharky hoped like hell this wouldn’t be the time he’d decide to pop a boner.

Because one, awkward. Two, his tighty-whiteys weren’t going to hide shit. And three, John.

John wasn’t supposed to be in the same category as those chicks from the music videos he loved watching, those two ladies that he really wished he’d sealed the deal with a couple of months back, Grace snapping off a shot during Nick’s 4th of July bash, or Mary May.

But here he was, thinking about it, and couldn’t find a solid reason to shoot it down. Well, not as solid a reason as he’d thought, apparently. ‘Cause him not being that into dudes was supposed to cover that, but not even that held as much water as it used to. Not anymore.

 _Fuck_. Fuck his luck. 

“Now, now,” John hissed. “It doesn’t do either of us any good if what we’re both seeking ends up breaking. Especially now. Don’t you agree?”

Sharky threw his hands up. “Okay, fine! Fine! Uncle, just…let me flip over so I don’t end up eating dirt while I’m at it.”

The glasses had fallen down over his eyes in the struggle, and when John backed off enough for him to turn over, he found himself staring up at him. Blue on blue, the lenses really didn’t do his eyes justice. Not one bit.

“Do you yield?”

Sharky flipped him off with both hands.

“Now Charlemagne, be reasonable. I don’t think you’re in a position to argue.”

“Look, I could find a position for any occasion.” _And under you’s one of them,_ he thought, biting his tongue. “But uh, we gonna parley this?”

“Parley?” John laughed, “I don’t think there’s much to negotiate here, but if you simply hand them over, perhaps I could be convinced to be merciful.”

He really wished John would shut his mouth. Or say something other than what he’d usually drop, because suddenly finding that hot was becoming a problem. Fast.

Grumbling, Sharky reached for the sunglasses and held them up. “Whatever. Just take ‘em.”

John snapped them up, holding them high before sliding them back onto his head like a small crown. All while wearing every bit of the triumphant smile he expected he would. “Ah, reunited at last.”

“Yeah, yeah. You won, whatever.”

Setting his hand back down to the right of Sharky’s head, John sighed. “You, my friend, never know when to quit.”

“Hey, you’re the one that ran a half-naked dude through the woods, and tackled his ass to the ground over a pair of sunglasses. Classic case of the pot calling the kettle black, yo.”

“Please,” John rolled his eyes, but was smiling warmly, “this was encouraged. Don’t deny it.”

Sharky returned it, liking how it took the edge off of him. It always did, but John usually let it fade fast. Like he’d blink and miss it, and wouldn’t have had any clue he’d done it to begin with.

Not this time. John kept that smile, aiming it right at him, and he couldn’t look away if he tried.

“Who said I was?” Sharky replied, his voice deeper. Rougher.

Opening his mouth to respond, John paused. Let his smile curve into something different as it took on an edge he liked, and waited, watching him back just as closely now.

Sharky heard the leaves move as John shifted, leaning down. But he tuned it all out. Focused only on John as he came within a breath of him, hovering in place as he took in every last detail on his face. 

“Prove me wrong then,” John whispered.

So, Sharky did exactly what his gut told him to do. No mind paid at all to the anxious voice in the back of his head running on overdrive, or how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.

Leaning up, he touched his lips to John's.

They were cool. Cool and soft as he held the kiss, not wanting to break it.

Nothing happened at first. Above him, John stayed in place, frozen, but he didn’t withdraw. That’s when it clicked, the actual act sinking in, and John’s eyelids fluttered shut.

Angling his head, his mouth moved against his. Applied more pressure bit by bit, as Sharky breathed in through his nose. It was slow; careful as neither drew back, or wanted air between them.

Sharky reached up for him, placing a hand on his side as John let more of his weight shift onto him. Pulled him closer, focusing on how warm he felt, even through his wet clothes.

And the brush of John’s fingertips along his jaw, got the first real sound out of him. A low moan, almost lost, but not ignored. Not when he felt John’s tongue run along his lips, and opened his mouth to him right after.

“-ohn? Brother John?”

John’s sharp inhale cut through the fog. Going still, he drew back, blue eyes wide open and staring directly at him.

There was a laugh in the distance. It joined the other voices as they called out, one more familiar than the others, and all asked for one person. John.

Staring up at him, up at John, he swallowed hard.

John was off of him soon after. The sunglasses hit the leaves by him, forgotten, and Sharky sat up as John paced a short track away from him.

Scrubbing his hair back, he let out a rough breath. “I have to- Joseph needs me to…” His voice trailed off as he turned towards him. But when their eyes met, there was no mistaking it. The pained look that crossed him, holding fast. “I’m sorry.”

John turned and left, heading off.

Stunned, Sharky sat there for a good five minutes, unmoving. Grabbing the glasses, he considered them for a second, staring off in the direction John went as his stomach twisted. The feeling brewing there digging at him, both hurt and frustrated.

Because he’d known what he’d wanted to happen there. What he’d let himself hope for as John drew close enough to touch, and he’d later drink himself stupid that night by the firepit trying to drown it all out.

He’d always been full of ideas. Both good and bad, with most leaning towards the latter.

So, maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all that he’d wanted to kiss him. It was easily his worst idea yet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shorter one this time, but by the weekend there should definitely be an update brewing. Only three left to go!

The first time Sharky worked up the nerve to kiss someone, he figured his luck was golden. Kristi, middle school, cool even with the braces, he’d impressed her with a few spare action figures and some of the extra snacks from his lunch. Talked her ear off more than once, and even had her respond with more than a nod, and an ‘uh huh’ or ‘okay’ to it too.

He had the moment planned out from the start, working up his nerve to pull it off only to get half a sandwich tossed at him mid-go. That, and some applesauce, and having to sit through the rest of the day with stained and sticky clothes had been the cherry on top of the shit sundae he’d made.

He’d thought the situation had been read right. Thought she’d been into him even if he was just a dumbass kid in bad need of a word (or five) breaking down why assuming that was bad – makes you less of an ass that way – and tried not to feel too broken up about it at the time. He could always pick himself back up and try again later.

Now, was no exception. He thought he had the situation down. Had everything sorted right from the start even if he didn’t have all of the pieces set in place yet, only for it all to snarl into a giant knot.

Because of course he’d want to see just what it’d take to get another smile from John, no matter how much he kept his mouth running to do so. To have John seek him out to talk, not just because he was there, but because he wanted to. To share more about himself, what he liked, what he loved. What mattered.

He wanted those things; liked earning them, knowing he’d been the one to make him smile like that. Laugh like that. Wanted to tap into the warm feeling he’d finally linked to it, flowing through him again and again. 

So maybe it shouldn’t have been a shock when the other urge hit, saying to kiss the hell out of him. To do it as many times as John would let him, just to hear him react to it. To hold him close, and feel it too.

To earn that. To _know_ he had.

That was an idea he could be okay with. He might’ve even let himself think he’d earned it that day, long enough to see what it tasted like.

And yeah, he did like it. He liked it a whole hell of a lot. Liked it, and John, and was full-on content to keep on kissing him even with the twig under him jabbing him in the ass.

But it wasn’t his call to make. Not alone, and when John pulled back he’d known on some level he’d fucked up.

Enough to know a sad 2 AM text wasn’t going to cut it, but he sent it. Still tried calling at least once as well, even if stammering out an apology wasn’t much better, but he got nothing. No response, no real acknowledgment, just radio silence.

Maybe he’d earned that too. 

That, and the news that Joseph slapped him with when he'd finally kicked himself in the ass hard enough to head over and fess up directly. John wasn’t even there for one, and wouldn’t be for the next two weeks.

_Two weeks._

Most of his work was usually done at his ranch or around the county, but they’d needed him to fly out for once; all for a few meetings that couldn’t be handled otherwise.

Joe wasn’t rude about it. He even welcomed him warmly once Sharky got through the whole shuffling and awkward rambling on the doorstep bit, half-launching into a speech that he was able to cut off before it got too personal too fast. But Joseph still had to tell him the news at least two more times for it to finally sink in, and the reassuring tone he used didn’t help one bit.

Because he knew what it was like to be avoided, to know that his piss-poor attempts at apologies really had to have fallen flat for John to cut out without any notice like that. And maybe he’d had a delay in replacing his phone – another thing of his he’d managed to wreck – but there were other ways he could’ve reached out to him.

With nothing to go off of, guessing was all he had left. So, with his thoughts pinging back and forth with a vengeance, he did the only thing he could do at the moment.

Work. 

Pitching the schedule completely, he came by when he wanted, aware that the days were passing, but tried not to consciously tick them down while doing so. He worked his ass off, and turned the whole thing into the riverside discotheque he'd wanted since this whole mess had started. Had his top one-hundred greatest hits of all time on hand, wore his best headphones, and blared enough music into his eardrums to ensure nothing else could get through. 

That’s how he started off this particular day, at least. Singing along loudly, throwing more paint up in lines that would’ve had John complaining next to him and pointing out what to do as he ‘helped’, and the pang he felt from it wasn’t funny at all.

Because it meant he missed that shit too, and that? That was bad.

“This fucking sucks,” he muttered, and brought the roller down only to squeeze his eyes shut before the splatter hit. “Fucking sucks.”

Lowering his headphones, Sharky grabbed for the rag hanging out of his back pocket, and tried to wipe the paint off of his face. It was during this that he caught movement in the distance. Coming down the path, the sunlight shone off of the spotless paint of the car, not a single scratch or dent on it in sight, and his heart jumped straight into his throat.

Scrubbing at the paint on him harder, he stashed the rag and wasn’t sure what the hell he was going for as he shuffled in place, but settled for staring thoughtfully at the wall in front of him. Wiped his hands on his shirt as he heard the door to the car open and close, and had no idea what the first word out of his mouth was going to be.

As it turns out, he didn’t say a thing. Just looked over at John as he walked up, dressed like a damn model himself, suit on with nowhere to go, and felt his face go a full three shades darker in color.

“Hmm.” John studied the building carefully, and tapped a finger on his chin. “You’ve been busy.”

“Uh, yeah.” That came out a little breathier than he would’ve liked, so Sharky cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, dude. You’ve been gone for what, two weeks now? What did you think I was gonna do during that? Take a holiday?”

“Maybe,” John replied. “I’d have considered it. No responsibilities, no oversight. Not a care in the world.”

He hadn’t looked his way yet, focusing on the boathouse instead. Sharky folded his arms just to keep his hands still, and rocked back and forth on his feet, all while the music kept on playing by his ear. He also tried not to read too much into the whole ‘lack of oversight’ part, but failed.

John did turn after a few more minutes, his examination finally over, and walked up to him. His face neutral, everything perfectly in place, and Sharky couldn’t help but stare at him. 

“That settles it then,” John said.

“Settles what?”

“You’re done,” he replied coolly. “With the work you’ve put in, and the progress you’ve made, I believe your debt to me has been repaid.”

Everything screeched to a halt. His thoughts, the tapping he’d settled into, and his breath as he held it. “I don’t…you wanna say that again, amigo?”

John didn’t even bat an eye, “You’re free to go. Your help is no longer needed.”

That wasn’t right. The roof still needed work done, the paint was barely starting to dry, and he knew for a fact that this wasn’t finished. He’d stared at all of this with him long enough to know he had maybe a week and a half left, max.

But fine. Maybe he wanted him in another area. To switch to another project, and he latched right onto it.

“Well, you got anything else that you need help with? Think I told Joe I was going to-”

“No. I can manage it from here.”

That idea hadn’t even lasted a minute before John shot it dead.

And there it was, the feeling he'd braced for. The hurt that dug right into his chest, sinking in deep, and he let out a shaky breath as he worked around it.

“Guess I’ll just…” Sharky gestured behind him, attention locked on John as his throat grew tight. “Just start grabbing and loading this up then. Just grab all of this and be on my way.”

Nodding to himself as John stared back, unblinking, his shoulders sagged. Everything else sinking right with him, as a weight settled heavy in his gut.

He knew he wasn’t always going to be around here, but being cut loose like this hadn’t been a possibility he’d considered. Having John all but throw him out mid-job, due to screwing up along the line? Sure. Hell, he would’ve added time due to piss-poor performance, and all that talk of standards months back.

But having him pull this now? After working together so well, for so long?

It stunned him bad enough to keep him from arguing it. He dragged his feet as he gathered up his things, loading them all into the trunk of his car one by one as his disappointment started to hang over him like a cloud.

Sharky shut the trunk and gave John a tentative glance. He didn’t know if he should’ve been looking his way at all, but did it in the hopes he’d get something out of him.

But John wasn’t fazed. Didn’t react, or say anything as he watched him go about his business, somehow even colder than when they’d first started working together. Not angry, annoyed, happy, or anything.

Just nothing. Nothing at all.

Rounding the car, Sharky tugged down on the brim of his hat and hoped it’d stay there. “Guess I’ll see you around?”

“Perhaps. Provided you don’t torch another portion of my property.”

He stopped. Felt the comment dig in a little more than it should’ve, and turned to look at John. Saw the hint of a smirk that lingered there only for it to drop completely.

It hadn’t been a kind thing for John to say, but that John realized it only after looking right at him hurt even more.

Sharky couldn’t hold his tongue any longer at that.

“You know, people talk around here. Have been for years, and will keep on doing that come tomorrow, next week, next year, whenever. I know you’ve heard more than half of what goes on about you here. What they say, and just how they feel about you. Hell, I’ve talked shit plenty about you. Had no real reason to think you weren’t the county’s largest asshole based on the like, ten things we’ve said to each other before the last couple of months. But in some ways you’re an okay guy. Maybe even a great one once you get past the bullshit, and I, uh, like you.”

_I like you._

He said it, actually got the words out of his mouth, and didn’t know how he could feel lighter and heavier all at once.

“Yeah, I like you. Didn’t think I’d ever say that and mean it. Probably tell the person claiming it they had a screw loose or something, but I do. And I liked being here. Working with you, being around you, and I don’t…”

Sharky bit the last part of the sentence off, because he knew what he did. He knew exactly what he’d done, and hated that this was the result.

“I, uh, don’t think it really matters what I say at this point, huh?” he muttered, looking John’s way. “Not anymore, at least.”

John’s jaw had tensed sometime in the last minute or so, but he held his tongue. Said nothing, and Sharky had let himself ramble on in spite of it. Had done anything to cover up whatever else he’d try.

Since this really was it, wasn’t it? The last time he was going to be here, talking to him, and he was wasting his time talking about anything other than the way he’d made him feel that day.

He’d never had the best of luck with shit like this anyway.

Giving John a grin, one that he wanted to muster up and mean, he held out his hand to him. “Guess this is where we part ways, amigo, and uh, don’t worry. Don’t think I’ll be taking a joyride in your boat twice.”

Not dropping his stare for a second, John shifted towards him and took his hand. Squeezed it as he shook it, and Sharky felt his grin finally wane as he forced himself to let go.

With one last slap to John’s shoulder, he headed towards his car.

“Charlemagne,” John called after him, but he didn’t slow down. “Charle-Sharky, _wait_.”

“Just save it, okay?” he snapped, pouring all of his frustration into it. “Don’t bother with the names, the pleading, or whatever this is you’re trying! Persuading me? _Now?_ The fuck’s up with that? Not like you wanted me here to begin with, but it is what it is. I wrecked your shit, I came here to fix it, thinking that was going to be all of it, but this?”

He gestured between them, and let too much show on his face while saying it.

“This on top of everything else? Fucking blows, man. It fucking blows.”

Seeing John’s calm crack wasn’t satisfying. Having to force it to begin with, even less so.

“So just…let it go, huh? Save us both more trouble in the long run.”

Sharky turned, his feet carrying him to his car, and after slamming the door shut behind him, left.

On autopilot, he gunned the engine, not thinking about where the road was winding to. Just away. Far, far, away as he passed each of the signs dotting the valley. Following the road, he revved more than the car liked, content to keep listening to the roar of the motor until it shuddered. Something kicked around outside, pulling his attention straight to it, and he pulled in to a nearby gas station as he caught the familiar smell of burnt rubber.

He idled by the pump. Listened to the engine as he loosened his grip on the steering wheel, and turned the keys to shut it all off. Only then did the silence really hit; leaving him alone with only his heavy, uneven breathing to listen to.

That’s when the blue caught his eye.

Right on the dash sat the sunglasses. Blue, almost as blue as his eyes.

Punching the steering wheel, Sharky swallowed the rest of his feelings down and got out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably ironic that Stuck On You by Failure was playing while finishing up edits for this, but it's not a bad fit at all: https://open.spotify.com/track/6kBODAu0J7doZnLpnwBROy 
> 
> Only two chapters left to go! Thank you all for being patient with me, because I might be sweating out the edits for these last two more than I should be.

Fall ended, and with the beginning of winter the first hint of snow rolled in. One to two inches of it blew in to start, blanketing everything in a fine layer of white as the temperatures dropped.

Nothing that would bury his place outright, but that still didn’t stop Sharky from giving half of it a good ol’ scorch with his flamethrower. He had a yearly thing going, adjusting it each time just to get the right stream of flame flowing, so he wouldn’t burn much under the snow. But thankfully, this wasn’t one where he was on the verge of getting caught for it.

Not yet at least, as he took the jet of fire and gave it another sweep across where the snow was coating the road. He’d get at least two to three more passes before hitting the pavement, and needed to be sure to stop it at any sign of the fire spreading.

Now was not the time to get cozy up at the jail either, no matter how well they decked the halls over there.

Hurk let him know early on that he was set to do their usual thing this time of year. He’d pull up a chair with him as they had their annual holiday bonfire, before heading out to Aunt Addie’s. Those were the best times, and the ones where he really had all he could’ve ever wanted.

Sometimes there were odd years. The ones where Hurk was gone after all, being one hell of a kick ass super spy, and Sharky found it harder to get in on the holiday fun with his aunt. Felt a little too much like an outsider, and thought his time was better spent down at the Eagle drinking himself stupid before trying and failing to write a dirty phrase into the snow.

This year was set up to be one of the good ones, though. He had Hurk, they had their usual plans set up, and tonight they’d even decided to get in a little pre-holiday drink-a-thon. He’d supply the venue and grab half of the alcohol, while Hurk would cover the rest. Snag them more booze, maybe even a few movies, and he’d try to see how fast he could beat him at his own self-declared shot-taking record.

But first, he needed the beer. Smokes too, since he’d gone through most of his current pack, and snapped up what he could down at the general store.

They only had one six pack of the beers he and Hurk liked, though, and when he went fishing for cash he wasn’t able to cover for another, so he cut his losses. He paid for the beer plus one pack of cigs, and knew Hurk would have his back on the rest.

Not breaking his usual habit, he took one of the beers and popped the cap as soon as he was out the door. Hit by the cold, he shivered but shrugged it off as he tilted the beer back. It wasn’t far to his car, so he could double-time it there before anyone could say two words about it.

“Strange.”

He paused, and nearly coughed the drink up. John was standing not even three feet away, dressed in a long dark coat. A blue scarf was wrapped around his neck, and between harsh coughs Sharky might’ve been able to pick out the light smile he wore. Almost friendly.

The air escaped John in a puff as he chuckled. “You would think something warm would be better for this weather.”

“It…uh, that’s what the whiskey at home’s for,” Sharky rasped, “or fireball. Usually a winner.”

“Ah.”

John raised a gloved hand to hold his coat closed, clearly cold, but he didn’t drop his eyes or move on. Just held the look he was set on aiming at him, and Sharky knew his mouth was in danger of running off on him.

Once he could get it going again, that is. Funny how John had a way of doing that to him.

“You, er, need anything from here? You never-“ _I never see you down here._ “Didn’t think there was a thing you’d ever run out of.”

“Yes, I… There were a few things I did find I needed.” The smile faded. “Matches.”

“Oh. Yeah, you might need some of those.” He took another drink of the beer, hoping it would cover the way his mouth was twisting. And didn’t like one bit the way his lighter suddenly burned a hole in his pocket. “For heat?”

“Heat, mostly.” John shrugged, and tried another smile. “Haven’t decided to take a page out of your book just yet. But it’s tempting.”

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Pressed against the back of his teeth as he felt his grip on the beer tighten. “So, uh…”

“It’s good to see you.”

“Good luck with that.”

He’d blurted it out just as John spoke, not expecting anything along those lines.

Something flashed in John’s eyes. It was hard to tell out here in the dark at first, but those blue eyes of his managed to catch the light. What little there was brought them out, and he didn’t know what to do with the hurt he’d let him see.

“Fuck, I uh-this isn’t, look I-“

“You’re busy.” Smoothing out the front of his coat, John looked down as he did so, studying his leather gloves closely. “Clearly I’ve interrupted something, and you need to get back to it.”

Chug-a-lugging a beer out in public wasn’t something. Lighting another cigarette only to stub it out before finishing it in the ashtray of his car wasn’t something. Missing him wasn’t-

Sharky swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Think you’re right about that.”

This was his cue to leave. He had been out here long enough, stared over at him long enough, and he didn’t trust at all his ability to hide any of it at this point.

Still, he let himself look at John again, just for a moment longer, because what was one more second? He’d dug the hole deep enough to start. He’d keep on going until he had a whole damn trench.

“See you around, man,” he threw out over his shoulder as he turned to leave. “Oh, and happy holidays and all that shit.”

The snow crunched under his feet as he trudged over to his car, ready to throw the door open and hop in fast. But this time around John didn’t call out to him. He put the last of the beer down from behind the driver’s seat, waiting for it, listening, only for his phone to give him a notification instead.

Slipping it out, he opened up the message waiting for him.

_Happy holidays. Take care._

* * *

“Holy shit, Sharky. Thought they were out of this. Though, looks like they would’ve been if you’d put any more of a dent into it.”

Hurk snagged one of the beers on the table – one of three remaining, which wasn’t all that bad – and got to work on it quicker than he had. Then took the other next to it right after. 

Stifling a laugh, Sharky flicked a loose bottlecap at him from the couch. “You trying to say something? After I head on down there and nearly freeze my ass off hunting for that shit?”

“Whoa, no. ‘Cause that’s just hella rude turning my nose up at any free alcohol being offered, but this ain’t enough for two. Hell, it’s barely enough for one.”

And with their shindig consisting of one beer, the remains of another six-pack in his fridge, plus the line of spirits they’d taken a crack at already, it was looking a little on the sad side. Hurk hadn’t even been able to snag a keg, not this time around. All after showing up to Sharky’s house, emptying his pockets for spare change for a potential second booze run, and didn’t even have a movie or three to share.

“And not a single call back,” Hurk sighed, “I’m hurting, cuz. Thought we’d be able to cozy up to some fine-ass ladies tonight, but no takers.”

“Eh, it happens.”

Disappointing as it was, he was hard-pressed to care. At least until Hurk threw a handful of bottle caps back at him, and he dove to the other end of the couch to dodge them.

“Well, you’re in a funk still. Don’t think I’m not noticing that, or done worrying about it either!”

“Look, it’s late. We’re short on shit. Any lady walking in through that door would walk back out again after seeing how lame of a situation we’ve got going here. And that’s not even covering the porn mag left on the table.”

“Hey, I marked a spot. Thought you’d appreciate it since you’re blue, and needed a little something to make you smile.” Hurk walked over to it and held the magazine up, thumbing through a few pages before turning it around to show it to him. “Come on, you love this chick.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sat back down, and folded an arm under his head. Gave what Hurk was holding a passing glance, before leaning back. “It’s nothing. Just some of that seasonal shit.”

“Well, I think I know how to get this party going again. We exit stage left, head on down to see Miss Mary May, and work our way up from there, eh?”

Sharky grunted in response, and Hurk groaned in exasperation.

“Duderino, you’re killing me here. I’ve gotta find a way to get you back to bouncing off the walls, or we’re both done. Like, the party’s dead, but we’ve gotta keep on going. Work our way back on up, so we can rise from this. Majestic and-”

The magazine was tossed down, and Sharky heard a gasp.

“Oh, shit. That’s pretty fucking sharp there, cuz.”

“Hmm? What is?”

“These sunglasses. Where’d the hell you manage to get them?”

Sharky shot up in his seat.

In the middle of shooting off a set of finger guns, Hurk had slipped the pair he’d found on, pausing only to push them further up the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, this is pretty damn cool. Don’t know about all the blue, though, you think these little guys come in red, white, and blue instead?”

Sharky scrambled up and off of the couch, and wrangled them away from Hurk. “Careful with that shit, okay? You’ll fucking break them if you bend them the wrong way.”

“Whoa, whoa there, man! Easy, easy!” Hurk held up his hands, and gave Sharky a wary look as he examined the pair. “It’s a set of sunglasses, bud. No big deal, not that I was gonna actually break ‘em.”

“They’re five-hundred bucks, man.”

Hurk changed his tune immediately, “Well, fuck a duck. And you’re holding onto them? Who the hell do you know willing to spend bookoo bucks on a set of glasses?”

It didn’t take long for him to narrow that down either, and Sharky’s grimace in response only sent the unspoken point home.

“Wait. Are those John’s?”

Sharky adjusted his hold on the sunglasses, almost cradling them in his hands. “He dropped them. We were working one day, he had to run off to do something with his bro, and I…grabbed them. Wasn’t thinking much at the time, like I know he could’ve come back to grab them later, but I thought they’d get smashed out there. Figured I’d have a chance to give ‘em back, except later never really came, and I, uh. Held onto them.”

“Well, it’s his fault for doing you dirty like that. Cutting you out of the whole deal after trapping you in it to begin with? Stealing and keeping his shit seems like fair game to me.”

Glancing down at them, Sharky sighed. “Nah, not really. Not like you think it would.”

Hurk got quiet, saying nothing as he went and gently placed the sunglasses back down on the dining room table. The low whistle Sharky got after that though, had him trying to force himself not to bolt. 

“Fuck me running, dude. You weren’t kidding before, were you?”

“Kidding ‘bout what?” Sharky replied, feeling sheepish. “The whole him not being a douche thing, or the part where I kind of liked him?”

“Man, _both._ Definitely both.”

“Oh. Well, it-it’s fucking bad.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sharky swiped his cap off to run a hand through his hair. “It’s a whole lot of bullshit, ‘cause I was busting my ass out there. Wanted to get it all over and done with so we could go back to acting like nothing had happened. Then I didn’t mind it as much. Kinda thought we were friends or heading towards it, and…I might’ve blown that too.”

Dropping his arm, he sniffed, and tried to look anywhere but Hurk’s way.

“’Cause you don’t wanna kiss your friends or try to. Muddies things a whole hell of a lot, and it’s…it didn’t work out. And I don’t know why, but I still wanna see him. Know how he’s doing even if he doesn’t give two shits about me, and when I had that chance today grabbing that,” he said pointing over towards the beer, “I blew it again.”

“Well, what about you? Takes two loving and willing adults to do the ol’ sideways shuff-” Hurk paused, scrunching up his face as he considered it. “Wait, that’s a bad way of saying it, ‘cause we’re not talking fucking, we’re talking feelings. Which usually leads to fucking, but the point still stands, though. You gotta have a say in some of this here. Especially if you like this guy – and fucking John, man, but I ain’t judging. Much.”

Hurk’s hands went up again as Sharky gave as much of a glare as he could muster. But even that fizzled out completely as his eyes dropped straight to his feet.

“You gotta have something to say something, right?”

It was bitter on his tongue, and he tried to choke it back. Found himself thinking of the smile John gave him earlier. How he’d looked at him, warm enough to root him to the very spot.

“Something solid. Something to go off of instead of just guessing, and I’ve done enough of that, man. Burned that bridge and boat – though some of that shit came pre-burned, if we really wanna get into it. Like I think there’s still bits and pieces at the bottom of the river that we’d be able to dig up. Big enough chunks to drag up and float on Titantic-style, and…yeah. That’s just how this kinda thing goes.”

When Hurk walked over and gave him a hug, he didn’t pull back. Sniffed a little more as he tried to get it together, because like hell was he going to start blubbering over this. He’d managed to avoid it so far, but this would be the stick needed to break that damn camel’s back.

“Hey, it’s okay," Hurk said, hugging him tighter. "Sorry for giving you shit over something you can’t really control, and shit for any of this at all. I want you to be happy, and if he makes you happy? You lock that down, and dial it in tight. But if he’s being weird about it? He’s the one missing out. Him, not you. You’re the coolest guy around. Like the one you go to whenever you need to get down and party hard, and if that ain’t the kind of party we’re having? You’ll still find a way to knock all our fucking socks off with some crazy shit. ‘Cause that’s you, cuz.”

“Just me?”

“Yeah, just you, being the best, badass baby cousin a guy could ever ask for.”

After a few pats on the back, Sharky let out a sigh. Felt some of the weight start to lift after letting that out into the open, and felt a little better too. Not completely, not even by a long shot, but he’d work his way there.

“You know what’ll help? Not all of it, but at least for now?” Hurk asked.

“A round of shots?”

“Round of the best alcohol we can handle, and tonight I’ve got us covered. We’ll do that for a while, then finish off the night watching ol’ Vinny being a total badass.”

Thinking it over, Sharky felt a smile start to creep in. “Maybe throw in some other shit too. Like, maybe one round of the holiday fireplace or something? The crackling’s nice.”

“Anything you like, bud. Anything you like.”

* * *

Nights at the Spread Eagle during winter weren’t much different than during the rest of the year. Sure, there was a draft, but the place was just as busy as any other. The drinks flowed, the regulars had their winter gear on, and everyone was set on having a good a time as possible.

Hurk made good on his promise shortly after they got there, toasting him before the two got cracking on their first round of shots. He didn’t want to get blasted, but the warmth that set in was welcome, and with every story that Hurk dove into he found it that much easier to let loose and laugh. 

Heading up for the next round, Sharky kept his beer close as he hit the counter up front, passed their order on to the always lovely Mary May, and set in for a short wait. Resting both arms on the counter he took a look around, and noticed there was no line at the jukebox. With quarters rustling around in his pocket, he had change to spare.

“Waiting on something?”

Shifting, Sharky tried to make space for the person next to him. “Shit, sorry, let me just-“

Then felt the rest of the response die in his mouth as he glanced up at Jacob. Dude was still as tall and imposing as he remembered, but wasn’t eyeing him with the intent to kill. Or anything other than what he guessed was friendly for him.

“Yo, how’s it…how’s it going?”

“It’s going.” Jacob took the spot next to him by the bar, settling in, and Sharky tapped his fingers on the counter a little faster. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“No shit.”

“You two aren’t talking much anymore?”

Nothing came through in his tone. Not anger or irritation, and while Sharky was still waiting for him to throw him a beating, Jake wasn’t gunning for it.

“I, uh, don’t think that’s the way I’d put it. ‘Cause if you know two things about it, and I know you guys are all close and shit, it’s…not great,” Sharky said, going straight for his beer.

“Yeah. You used to be all he ever talked about.”

That made him spit his next drink out. Getting one hell of a dirty look from Mary May, he grabbed as many napkins as he could to sop it up, wiping the counter down, and felt his face burn the entire time.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Jacob simply kept on tending to his own beer. Drained it completely as he stood there next to him, and sighed when done. 

“Heard about you enough to wonder if he’d ever shut up about you. Charlemagne this, Boshaw that. Had a new story every week, if not every night we’d stop by. Like with that skunk. Got real unlucky with that.”

Groaning, Sharky set his face in his hands, “Yeah, it was…it was pretty bad.”

“Can’t dodge those easy.”

“I didn’t. Thought that was the whole point of that one.” Sharky sat up, and eyed him. “So, I get it. You’ve heard some shit.”

Jacob set the empty bottle down, and motioned for another. “Plenty. More than I know you want to hear, until he stopped. Stopped saying much of anything about you at all, and didn’t look none too pleased about it either.”

“Well, you wanna know more? Talk to him about it.”

“I did.” Mary May slid him a beer, and he redirected it towards Sharky, “Which is why I told him to talk to you.”

“Why would you…why’d you do that?” Sharky asked, any irritation at this bleeding away.

“John’s not easy to deal with. Then if he goes and fucks something up along the way? He’s ten times worse. If he makes a mistake, not many are going to push back, or correct him on it.”

“So, is that what this is? You think he made a mistake?”

“He did.” The piercing look Jacob aimed at him made him sit up a little straighter. “He liked having you around. Why throw that away?”

That punched him up and down all at once, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not again.

“Look. I get it, you’re being a bro. Trying to look out for him and shit, and I respect that. It means a lot, but you want me to talk to him? Like sit down, link arms, and work any of this out?”

Sharky pulled out his phone and didn’t even wait for Jacob to prompt him. Just called John, and hit speakerphone so that they could hear it as it dialed.

“Dude won’t answer. Hasn’t yet, and won’t now.”

Jacob crossed his arms, set to wait with him, and Sharky listened for those telltale words of John’s. The same few words the voicemail hit him with when he’d first tried this weeks back.

_“Hello?”_

Sharky stared down at his phone, at the seconds of the connected call as they ticked by on the screen, and felt his mouth go dry.

_“Charle- …-nyone there?”_

Slapping it against his ear, he turned off the speakerphone and talked fast, “Hey, uh, you…you’re not supposed to pick up.”

_“I’m not?”_

“No, you’re…” He stopped his leg when he felt it start bouncing into overdrive, “It’s, uh, sorry. Sorry about earlier. Wanted to get that out first, ‘cause I didn’t know I was gonna see you and really had to run off. Might’ve also thought this would’ve gone straight to voicemail, so I could, you know. Actually work my way through this. Make it sound good, not...”

“ _No, it’s…it’s fine,”_ John cleared his throat, and his next few words were warmer, _“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you at all, so even this is welcome.”_

“Oh, er, well. Cool.” _Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck._

_“And…you don’t need to apologize for that. I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve, and putting you on the spot like that was far from fair. It's hard to hear you over the line right now, but if you want to talk more, I’d be glad to. About that, or anything else.”_

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

His heart was hammering in place, and his eyes skimmed the entire bar. Jumping from item to item, needing a topic or an excuse to keep things going, he floundered in place until he stopped on the white snowflakes decorating one of the other guests’ sweaters. It was an ugly sweater to be loud and proud of, and the glittery shovel emblazoned on the front stuck out next to a large lumpy snowman.

That set a few gears into motion, and his mouth was moving before he could stop it. “Shovel.”

_“Shovel?”_

Shifting on his chair, Sharky swore under his breath. _Put it in a sentence. Words, verbs, and some of those phrases like that Wheel of Fortune shit. That’s how you do this._

“You er, need any shoveling done? Like you’re dealing with a ton of snow coming down, or about to? ‘Cause I’ve got some ways of fixing that. Got more than a few, might even give you a method or two provided you want a uh, demo. Or a guarantee any of it’ll work, and I can cover it. Give you a sneak preview or something.”

John went silent, the sounds of the bar rising enough to cover him, and Sharky didn’t bother stopping his leg this time. Just felt it vibrate enough to make his voice uneven.

“Hey, John? You still with me there, amigo?”

 _“I’m still here,”_ he said, and Sharky couldn’t hold back his relief.

“So, what do you say? You dig any of that?”

 _“Yes.”_ It was faint, but he might’ve heard a laugh, “ _I think you’re right. I could use someone here after all.”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more to go! I almost can't believe it myself at this point.

Every shovel Sharky owned he threw in the trunk. Packed them all, and didn’t care if they all bumped into each other as he took every corner faster than he should’ve.

That shouldn’t have worked. Hell, that shouldn’t have registered or been anything close to a winning proposition, but he said yes. John picked up, he heard him say yes, and that was all it took for him to throw everything aside for it. To grab Hurk, tell him what's what and go, and he was willing to dive in headfirst just to get an answer. All just to have the chance to put a pin in any of this. 

And to see him, but he’d known that for a while now.

The white that covered everything as he pulled up was beautiful. Almost too pretty to mess with, but the wheels of his car drew jagged lines through it, and after getting out he had to hold back on the urge to drop down and see how good of a snow angel he could pull off.

Grabbing one of the shovels, Sharky trudged over to the front door, and stood there. Stared at the doorbell like it was going to jump out at him until he jabbed at it. Then hit it one more time just to make sure it worked.

After that came the waiting. That was what sucked, and after a few seconds of it, he started fumbling for a cigarette. Searching both pockets, however, gave him nothing. Not a loose one, not pocket lint, but he did find some stray matches.

Taking one out, he twisted it between his fingers as he kept on patting himself down, and dropped it when the door opened and he caught John looking out at him.

John, cautious, but hopeful, and that was all he needed for that old feeling to kick in again. The one he’d tried to put out and failed, and he forced himself to do anything to get the ball rolling. Anything, just to keep from staring at John dreamily as he stood there on his doorstep.

Pulling himself up, Sharky grabbed for the shovel and held it out in front of him. Almost like one would a spear, and he cleared his throat.

“Yo, so snow. You got a lot of it here.”

Giving the area behind Sharky a passing glance, John nodded slightly. “It appears to be so.”

“And I know you want that shit out, and fast. Now I’ve got a few ways of doing that. Got the traditional way, the express way, and the uh, Boshaw Barbeque way. Not gonna just limit you to one, I figured you’d want the full set of things to pick from.”

The look of interest in John’s eyes grew. “I remember you mentioning a few over the phone. Any recommendations?”

“Well, namesake’s kinda a no-brainer. ‘Cause usually that means I can go a round or two outside with my flamethrower. Torch the shit out of it and clear it out without thinking too much.” Stopping to rub at his neck as he thought it over, he made a face. “Think that might be the express way too.”

“So, two out of the three ways involve…fire?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda my go-to for most things, but I figured you might wanna limit that.”

John’s reply came fast, “Agreed.”

“But the others are still open. If you change your mind, I’ve got her loaded up back there. Takes nothing to just whip it out on a second’s notice, and get the job done. But ol’ faithful it is. Just shoveling that shit, and shoveling it well. And I could probably dig up a few testimonials for that too, if you wanna go through them first.”

John raised a hand to rub at his lips, considering him as he stood there. “No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. As entertaining as I’m sure that would be, your word will do just fine.”

“So,” setting the shovel down, Sharky cleared his throat, “ready to work with Boshaw and er…well, it’s just one Boshaw, but I like the idea of having a name for it. Makes it sound all official, ‘cause it’s coming together. Just slowly.”

“You do have name recognition on your side right now. Or would that be more notoriety?”

“Hey, being known for something’s not all bad. Being known for the kind of thing that you’ll be using? Guarantees you’ll make it work. And here? Still offering up a service, and fire or not it’s getting done. So, fuck it. Tell me where to start, and I’ll get right on that.”

Barely hiding a smile behind his hand, John gestured indoors, “Let me get my coat.”

* * *

This was going well. The kind of well that had him hoping there wasn’t something awful waiting just behind the scenes to strike, because his hopes were at an all-time high, and Sharky wasn’t ready to let them crash back down to earth. 

John took another shovel, with the reasoning behind it being that one man couldn’t possibly put a dent into any of this alone. Not quickly. It was his fault for having a fucking mansion for starters, but the minute he started chipping in, Sharky couldn’t quite keep the grin off of his face.

“More snow’s coming in tonight,” John said, not breathing hard yet, but each one left his mouth in a white puff. “Not heavy, but enough to make it a problem.”

“See, we could get all of this taken care of in a night, but I know my method’s off the table. Just offering that again, in case you’re looking for something quick and easy.”

“And I appreciate the offer, but I fail to see how that would make it easier.”

“Just point, work the trigger a little to see how you like it, then gently sweep the stream back and forth.”

Making the motion with his hands, he rocked back and forth, putting his hips into it too, and only stopped when he noticed the wry way John was looking at him.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. That shit works wonders when you’ve got twenty feet of snow and only one buckaroo around to move it all.”

John set his hands on top of the shovel. “Namely yourself.”

“Yeah, though Hurk’s had my back ever since we were little. He’s been there for me for anything and everything, and if I asked right now he’d be at my house in ten with a sled and a spare shovel. Course we’d skid down any slopes first, ‘cause an opportunity like that you just don’t pass up, but after he’d throw in with me to cart that shit out. No complaining, or fussing, or nothing. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Just sucks he’s out of town often as he is. Seen some real strange shit too, going off of what he’s brought up.”

“Well, maybe you won’t have to handle it alone next time.”

Sharky paused mid-shovel. “Say what?”

“You could…ask.”

“Ask you?”

John tilted his head to the side, glancing down briefly before making eye contact again. “I understand I’m not going to bring a lot of firepower to it, but it’s another set of hands.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah," he said, shaking off the surprise that had set in. "Having two heads and four sets of hands to use? It sure would be. Maybe clear all that snow up before that tingly sensation kicks in, you know that kind where you lose the feeling in your fingers? What a thing that’d be." And the idea of it was more than enough to put a broad smile on his face. "Thanks, man.”

John waved him off, but let his attention linger on him even after going back to shoveling. That might’ve made Sharky put his back into it a little more, when he wasn’t trying to look over at him himself.

Pink started to tint John’s face, mainly his cheeks, which reminded him of one of those old Christmas figurines he had a bad habit of knocking over at his grandma’s. Rosy-cheeked, probably ghost-touched, going off of some of their weirder bumps in the night that happened during the holidays, but still smiling and happy. John wasn’t smiling directly, but every time their eyes met, he caught something there. Not even one of those ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ type moments, but there. It made that warm feeling run through his chest again, and Sharky felt his mouth moving before he could stop it.

“You know, uh…you can come by again. Anytime. Just to shoot the shit, hang, dodge Broseph or Jake if they’re getting at you. Or hell, bring ‘em. We can all rock the firepit, I’ll set up some music, and we can just chill.”

Sharky cleared his throat, focused right on the pile of snow that kept on growing, and kept on talking.

“Or we could hop in Hurk’s truck, go do some ice fishing, but by giving it the ol’ Shurky one-two fer. You know, ‘cause Hurkie and I came up with it, and if we wanna trademark that it’d take a while, but you’re a lawyer. We could all sit down, you slap on a suit and crack open that briefcase of yours, and set us up while you’re throwing around all of that shit they say on Law and Order, and…oh, fuck.”

He stopped and crunched enough numbers to sweat.

“That whole talking bit’s got a price tag too, huh? Shit, think you could uh, swing a bit of a first time customer satisfaction guaranteed deal for-“

He turned as John reached his side, and yelped as he yanked him forward by the front of his coat. Kissed him in full, his lips cold, but his breath warm. So warm, and so much closer than he had been not even a minute before.

The shovel hit the snow, falling right out of his hands. Trying not to trip over it, Sharky moved forward, grabbing for him as John slid a hand up behind his head. Kissed him back. Just like he’d wanted to weeks back. Days back. Today, soon after seeing him at his front door. Like he could right now, even as words kept on trying to bubble up and spill out.

But he was here. John was on him, kissing him, moaning into his mouth, and he couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it even as it was happening.

Breaking away, Sharky pulled back. Blinked and held his eyes shut for a few seconds just to see if he could ground himself. But John was still there when he opened them. Still there, still holding onto him, and nearly pinched himself just to be sure.

Sharky laughed. “Fuck, man. You just…you like throwing me off balance, don’t you?”

“Me? That’s you. Has been you from the very first day I met you,” John said, stroking his cheek. “Officially, at least. This fool that thought it’d be a fine idea to borrow a boat - while intoxicated at that - and trusted he would be able to return it.”

“Hey, I only failed step four. Nearly had profit too, but…uh, yeah.” Leaning into John’s touch, Sharky let his eyes fall shut. “Better that I didn’t. Hindsight being twenty-forty and all that.”

“Twenty-twenty.”

“Whatever. But-“ _But why?_ The thought crept in, and his smile grew brittle. “You change your mind, or…?”

John’s eyebrows drew together. “About what?”

“You didn’t… I didn’t think you-“

A shaky breath slipped out, and Sharky couldn’t help it. Took two steps back to get some distance between them.

“I’d run through this before. Thought this shit over, and you weren’t interested. And that’s cool, not everyone is. Shit, I didn’t even think I was until it fucking laid me out. ‘Cause when I said I liked you, I _liked_ you. Like, enough to put up with damn near anything just to get a few more minutes with you.”

John let out a breath, and pressed a hand to his eyes. Murmured something softly to himself that Sharky couldn’t quite catch, only for John to repeat it soon after. “It wasn’t you.”

“Wasn’t what?”

“‘You’ that made a mistake. I did. And letting you think that for as long as I did wasn’t fair. Not to you.”

When he lowered his hand, Sharky didn’t need to guess the expression crossing John for once. Regret came through clear as day.

“I don’t have friends. For a long time it wasn’t wise to, and the ones that I did make quickly showed me it was only for what they could get out of me. What they could take. Others took it further than that, and…I did the same in turn. Took people that I could’ve grown close to, and trusted, and used them instead. Ruined what could’ve been something wonderful. Something to cherish, and hold on to.”

John pursed his lips together, and gave him a rueful look.

“I knew what this was building towards. Ignored it. Then let myself want it. Where was the harm? But there’s always a catch to wanting. Wanting something, or someone. Was I doing it again? Being selfish? Taking that, twisting it just enough to make it into something that would harm more than help?”

Searching his eyes, John started reaching for him before drawing his hand back to his chest.

“But did you even want me? As a friend or anything else? I thought I saw the first there, and gave little thought before trying to see what was beyond that.”

“Like, I kissed you,” Sharky said, frowning slightly. “That’s…that wasn’t crossing any wires there.”

“But I put you in that position. When we stopped-”

“John, I was full on set to keep on going, man. Like, I wanted it. Thought you’d stopped, realized what the fuck was going on and decided to slam on the brakes once you’d got some sense back. And sure, I needed to cool it and think it over, but that was just…” Sharky paused, and drew in a deep breath, “just to come to realize how much I liked being around you. Okay, getting hit with the whole ‘shit, guess I’m bi too’ bit didn’t hurt, but I wanted to be there. Wanted to finish all of this, and maybe see where it’d go after that. And you, uh…”

“I came home. I told you we were done, and forced you off of my property.”

“Yeah,” Sharky replied, looking away. “Yeah, it pretty much went like that.”

“It was…I thought I was making a wise choice. To put that distance back where it should’ve been the entire time, because I was making the same mistakes all over again. And I didn’t trust myself with that. Or you.”

“And I wanna respect that. You’ve gotta do right by you, and you didn’t wanna fuck me up, but…maybe it’s not always gonna lead straight to a bad end, you know?” John kept his eyes on Sharky as he took a few steps closer, on edge, but not backing away from him, and Sharky continued, “I mean, I’ve heard you like having me around. Is that right?”

That, John didn’t hesitate to answer. “I do.”

It brought a smile out, and Sharky didn’t hide it. “Already told you how I feel. Unless…you want me to go over that a little again. Break it down some more.”

John raised his chin. “I might.”

“Okay, let’s see,” Sharky said, rubbing his hands together. “I like you. Like hanging with you, and shooting the shit. Like working on your plane. Car’s also good, and I like looking at you, though uh, that’s not the sentimental kind of thing we’re going for right now.”

John chuckled, “No, not quite.”

“But it was nice being here. Being wanted. Knowing you wanted me here at all, even if it was only to fix shit up at first. And to get sprayed the hell out of, but that was a bad moment. Got the drop on me, and I wasn’t super slick when it came to getting out of it. But I handled it, and later on, I had some other cool moments.”

“True. We can’t forget that.”

“And I uh, mentioned the talking, right?”

“You did, but as nice as that was, maybe I liked looking at you too.”

Sharky blushed, laughing at it only to grow quiet when John stepped closer. Almost enough to cross back into his space, and felt his breath catch.

“Just like right now.”

“Well, uh, shit,” Sharky sputtered, as John ran a hand up the front of his coat, right along the zipper. He toyed with that enough for Sharky to drop his eyes only to park them right on John’s lips, “Um. That right?”

“Yes, I believe so. But if you need any convincing, I could go into more detail.” The look John wore now he’d have to be blasted beyond all comprehension to deny. “Break it down some more.”

“You talking a lot? Or like-”

John tugged him close enough to share a few directly with him, breath all too hot against his ear as he did so. Outlining everything in the kind of painstaking detail he’d come to expect. But this wasn’t history, flying, or anything having to deal with the nuts, bolts, or screws of the boathouse.

This was all about him. The subject of choice, and the thing that kept John pressed right up against him. What he’d noticed. What he’d liked. Painting just the kind of picture Sharky would’ve been all too glad to slot into, especially if it kept John at his ear like this. Whispering the kind of things he’d never thought he’d ever hear him say.

“…Fuck me running, man. You ain’t messing around any.”

“It pays to be thorough.” John’s lips grazed him, brushing his earlobe as he stayed close, and every breath coming out of him made him want to curl in closer. “To never overlook a single detail, no matter how small, or insignificant it might seem.“

Swallowing thickly, Sharky rasped, “Speaking of details, I might’ve missed one last thing here. Really meant to bring it up.”

“What?”

“The whole kissing part.” Leaning back to look at him, their noses brushed together as he didn’t quite escape John’s orbit. Stayed well within range as he hovered closer and closer by the second. “Liked that a whole hell of a lot too.”

Kissing him this time wasn’t a problem. No, it was all too easy as he wrapped his arms around John, and held him as close as possible.

John’s fingers ran through his hair, knocking his winter cap off onto the snow, and he shivered. More from the cold than the gesture, but John seemed set on giving it a run for its money anyway. He didn’t pull, just tugged him closer as he deepened the kiss, dragging a moan right up and out of Sharky’s throat in record time. He also seemed set on finding a way to slip his hands under Sharky’s coat, and he barely held off from giving John added access. ‘Cause stripping was totally cool. Stripping outside in this weather was a dumbass stunt, and he held off.

Soon though, John broke the kiss to whisper something into his ear. Distracted by the feeling of his lips on his neck, Sharky leaned into him, and felt him laugh as he repeated what he’d initially said. 

“Much as I like this,” John said, his breath warm against him, “standing out here with you, I think it’d be a lot more pleasant inside. Where it’s warmer for one, and maybe we can also find a few other means of keeping it that way. Do you agree?”

Sharky swallowed hard at the suggestion, nervous, but eager. “Yeah, let’s…let’s do it.”

Grabbing John’s hand, he squeezed it tight. And when he felt himself being guided towards the house, he stayed close behind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's where the rating really applies, and for anyone looking to skip it just hop ahead to the next section and you'll be golden!

Turns out the bedroom was too far to go.

It also didn’t have a sweet couch and a roaring fireplace, something John mentioned as a selling point. Not that he needed any convincing, but John kept up with it, describing it in perfect detail by his ear all while helping him to shimmy out of his clothes.

Sharky was usually pretty quick on his own. He’d timed himself once to see how fast he could whip his pants off, and was proud of the record even though he’d almost busted his ass on the floor. Here and now, with another set of hands on him, it should’ve taken zero effort to shed what he was wearing, and he’d left his coat, shirt, and hat on the trail to the living room.

Now, doing so while trying not to break the kiss he was engaged in was harder.

Struggling to keep any sense with John’s tongue in his mouth, Sharky bumped into the doorway, nearly tripped over one of those little foot-cushions, and almost took a table corner to the kidney, all while helping John wrestle his sweater over his head.

He couldn’t help but jump at the first brush of John’s hands, however, both cold against his sides and lower back. They warmed fast as they traveled over him, one skimming down the front of his pants before going for his belt. Getting past that, then the zipper, John’s palm ground down, pressing against him over his underwear, and Sharky couldn’t keep from moaning at the contact.

A cold hand on his dick wasn’t the most pleasant thing to consider, but he’d forgive him. Shit, he’d forgive him for damn near anything as long as he kept up with that slow, steady pace as he hardened quick under it.

However, it was John that also nearly made him pitch over the back of the couch when pressed against it. His mouth hot against his, then along and down his throat, Sharky held onto him tight only to nearly lose it by leaning back and slipping on the leather.

“Whoa, wait, wait-fuck!” Sharky yelped, breathing hard as John steadied him, one hand on the couch, and the other digging into his hip.

Trading a look, the two held it for a few seconds before John’s concern gave way to exasperation. “Is there anything in here that you haven’t tried to maim yourself with?”

“Yeah. You, for one,” Sharky said, then broke away and worked his pants down, tugging at them as he hopped on one leg. “Jury’s still out on if that’ll change, though.”

John almost looked offended. “That’s hardly fair to say.”

The pant leg snagged on Sharky’s foot, and he glanced down to see what the deal was. “Dude, you know my blood’s been running south to my dick for the last ten to fifteen, right? You wanna add to that?” He yanked at it to free it, struggling. “Shit, all you’d have to do is fucking offer to-“

“Offer to do what?” John drew his belt out, and tossed it onto the coffee table. “Because I’d like you to be a little more specific.”

“Just…” With no other helpful suggestions on his end, he felt himself grasping for straws.

He glanced over his shoulder, trying not to keep on hopping, but once John removed the last of his clothes, he suddenly knew just how far those tattoos of his went. The answer? Pretty damn far, and he didn’t want to stop looking at him.

“Just, you know. If you wanna finish the job, and find some way to blow my mind, I guess.”

“Or I could just blow you,” John all but purred at him.

 _Did he just purr at me?_ _Wait a sec, did he also just…?_

Hopping in a slight turn, he skidded, the world pitching sideways. Stumbling, his shoulder took the brunt of the impact as he hit the floor.

His foot was freed, but his pride? Just as bruised as he’d be come tomorrow.

“Charlemagne?”

“It’s fine! I’m cool,” he wheezed, feeling his face burn as John started over towards him. One very naked, and worried John judging from the way his eyebrows kept on drawing together, “just give me a sec.”

Shucking off his pants and underwear at last, he stood up, and huffed out a breath. So much for that record. And so much for John not finding a way to, as he put it, ‘maim him’.

“Right. I’m sitting down now.”

John guided him over to the couch, resting a hand on his lower back. “A wise choice. The wisest I’ve heard yet.”

And when he’d settled down onto the leather seat, the material cool against his skin, he took in the scene in front of him. Like some weird parody of what he’d catch in a holiday movie. The room was warmly lit, the fireplace just the kind of cozy he’d like to stretch in front of and watch for hours.

It was the kind of thing that belonged on a postcard. Not what he’d be met with back at his house, even with the small tree he’d cobbled together year after year to bring some cheer into his place.

“Shit, that’s pretty.”

John gave him an amused look as he followed his gaze to the fire, “I thought you might like that.”

“So’s you,” Sharky murmured, looking up at him, “just in case you were wondering.”

John had opened his mouth to say something else, but let it fall shut. Backlit by the fireplace, he faced him, and in that moment it really hit him. Just how bright, and seriously, fucking beautiful his eyes were as they focused on him. 

“Am I now?”

Resting a hand on the back of the couch, he leaned forward and Sharky met him halfway.

Sinking back against the cushions, he pulled John with him, and felt him slide a hand along his jaw before it sank into the hair behind his head, helping him to angle it up towards him. There he could keep on kissing him, feeling his lips tease at his, followed by his tongue.

Resting a knee next to him on the couch, John kept himself propped up and over him. Balancing himself as his fingertips pressed into his skin, grabbing tight whenever Sharky would do something with his tongue that John liked.

He added that to the other things he’d noticed so far. What made John’s breath catch, or his ears turn pink. All the little things he wanted to hold onto, now and for later, and hoped to build up an entire goddamn catalog by the time they were too beat to even think about giving another round a shot.

But he didn’t let himself think too much about that yet. Not when he was in the middle of kissing John like this, hoping the hand tucked along his side was heading straight for where he wanted him most.

John’s mouth traveled over to his ear. “Still with me?”

His teeth tugged at Sharky’s earlobe, the sensation sharp. But that had nothing on the way he sucked hard on his skin after that. And when John wrapped his fingers around his cock and squeezed, Sharky couldn’t stop his hips from bucking into his grip.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah. Fuck yeah,” Sharky gasped, grabbing for him. Doing all of the moving for him, he wanted that slide, and didn’t let up.

“Good. Seeing you this eager’s not making me want to be patient at all.”

John tried to steady Sharky’s hips, to ease him back into a slower rhythm as he followed every movement, and that’s when he felt him start exploring. Trailing and tracing his fingers all over him, and Sharky nearly jumped when the touch tickled. His mouth stayed at his neck, however. Sucked a line of spots that were going to show if he upped the pressure any, and sure enough, he did.

But the slower pace he used, the longer strokes still had him moving with John’s hand before long. Not slick enough by far, but one lick to his palm would’ve fixed that quick. Not that he was going to, but he thought about it. Thought pretty damn hard about it as he started bucking into John’s hand harder again, and swore under his breath.

“Is that good for you?”

“Yeah. That’s-that’s getting good,” he managed, his breath short. “That’s getting real good.”

He glanced down, wanting to see if reality was anywhere close to the mental image he’d supplied himself with, only to groan at the sight. It wasn’t easy peeking between them, but he liked that. Liked seeing John’s hand on him, his fingers wrapped around him, and hoped he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

But on the other hand, he needed to last. They’d been at this nowhere near long enough for it to be satisfying for all parties involved, and he wasn’t about to be that asshole. The one that’d come early, making every weird face in the book only to fall dead asleep right after, so he needed to put some of this on ice, and fast.

Forcing his eyes up, Sharky sucked down a breath. Tried to tap into some of the shit he remembered Xander telling him once. That whole finding your mind palace, or a way to use that zen to chill the fuck out, and looked for another focus. Another thing he’d have no trouble zeroing in on-

“I’m losing you again, aren’t I?”

That snapped him out of it. He’d let his attention drift towards the fireplace, concentrating on the cracking of the wood, but shifted it quickly back to John. 

“Look, it’s not-it’s…you caught me at a bad time.”

“I see. A shame, then,” John tutted as he pulled back to look at him. “But don’t spend too much time watching the fire, like I know you want to.”

“Why?”

“I’d prefer if you watched me instead.”

Having John kiss him hard, only for him to slide down his body and press another directly to his cock, Sharky forced his eyes to stay open. He wasn’t fucking missing this. Not for a second, though he knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Jesus Christ, man.” Every long lick of John’s tongue made him want to tilt his head back and enjoy the ride. “This ain’t gonna last long. Not that I don’t-“ John’s hand joined in, stroking him slowly as his lips closed around the tip of his cock, and Sharky’s groan was ragged. “N-not that I ain’t loving this, it’d just suck to bust one this fast, just when…”

“We’ve only begun to get started?”

John took him completely into his mouth after that, and Sharky swore loudly. The chuckle didn’t help, not when he could feel every last vibration, and he clenched both of his hands into tightly balled fists.

He wanted to touch him. Wasn’t sure where he could, as John’s fingers gripped his thighs, nudging his legs further apart to accommodate him.

His hair? Not that he needed to encourage him much, feeling him take him in deeper and deeper with every slide of his tongue. But it looked like the kind he’d enjoy running his fingers through, and maybe John would be into that? Wouldn’t hurt to try either way.

But his shoulders were an option too, Sharky noticed, watching his muscles flex as he moved. So were his arms. Not bad runner ups at all, if he was being honest.

Shit, there was a hell of a lot he needed to be honest with concerning himself, John, and what this was shaping up to be, but this was a start.

It wasn’t the mistake he worried it’d been either, because he’d thrown himself into this. Done what his gut and heart had agreed on this time around, knowing full well this was his last shot and he wasn’t about to pass it up. And somehow it worked out. For once in his life, he hadn’t fucked a good thing up by going with his instincts. Thinking he’d read all of the right signs when he’d missed every one, and still wondered on some level if he was sleeping off one hell of a bender somewhere.

Not that having a wet dream about John would’ve been a bad thing, but considering he was living out the alternative? Sitting here with the real deal, with John, on his knees in front of him, determined to see how far he could deepthroat him before he’d pop?

Sweet, tap-dancing Jesus, he could get used to this. Yes, he damn well could, he muttered between heavy breaths as he finally broke, gripping John’s shoulders tight.

“You…oh, fuck. You, you just…”

He was struggling. Genuinely struggling now with the new pace. Lips tight, all of it so tight and hot as he slid down his throat. Encouraged by John’s hand stroking him, then his tongue as he pressed it flat. Kept that slide going, urging him along as John moved his other hand from Sharky’s thigh down south and out of sight, and he felt that. Felt the hiss of breath as John withdrew, his eyes slipping closed before leaning forward to take him into his mouth again.

Fuck, he wanted to touch him. Wanted to wrap his own hand around him tight, as he was sure he was gripping himself. It made every hum damn near agony. Every muffled sound the roughest kind of test as Sharky tried not to buck his hips forward. Trying to back off from the harsh and deep his body said it wanted, only to dance right on the edge of it.

Both hands slid up the back of John’s neck to tangle in his hair, and he was begging now. With every tug, pull, and word that managed to slip out.

“John. Fucking, _fuck_ , John.”

Sharky felt it - felt him moan around him, and that nearly did it right there. So, having him back off in that moment was a jolt, but having John climb up to kiss him right after, hurried and sloppy, and with his taste on his tongue, was hot as hell.

“This…this shit ain’t lasting,” he tried to get out between kisses, “so, y-you want this?”

That hadn’t been meant to get a response. But at the “ _Yes,_ ” John gave him, breathless and strained, Sharky might’ve been rougher when he kissed him. Liked it when John’s teeth caught on his lips, no longer careful, but desperate.

He’d half-dragged him onto his lap, only for John to press up against him. Then climbed on as Sharky kept on touching him. Got him gasping just as hard, and didn’t stop. Neither of them seemed to want to, and he only did when the last few hurried strokes of John’s hand pushed him there. 

The sound that came out of him after that he’d rather not describe, or admit to anyone. But he let it out, and somehow his eyes didn’t roll back into his head.

Curled against him, John eased him down. Used softer strokes to coax him through the last few tremors, and let go only when he heard his breathing even out. Resting his forehead on John’s shoulder, he felt his heart rate slow, everything in him relaxing as he breathed, and felt John press a kiss to his neck.

“It’s…it’s gonna suck to clean this, isn’t it?” Most of the mess was between him and John at the moment, but it wasn’t going to stay there. Not at this rate. “Like this shit’s conditioned, and oiled like a fancy set of boots, and we probably fucked that up, huh?”

John sighed. “Possibly. But that’s a worry for tomorrow. Right now, I think there’s more important things for us to think about.”

Still aware of just how hard John was against him, Sharky was inclined to agree. 

“Yeah. Think you’re right, there. I also, I…I haven’t really done much of this shit before,” Sharky blurted out as he leaned back, knowing it was late by this point, but couldn’t hold onto it any longer. “Now _this_ I know, but anything else? It’s…um.”

“We’ll go slow.” John lightly touched his chin, making sure he was looking right at him. “Sticking to anything you’re comfortable with.”

“Not that I’m not…not that I wouldn’t mind anything else, just-“

“Be gentle?”

“Yeah,” Sharky breathed, and leaned into the kiss waiting for him, “let’s go with that.”

* * *

There was a voice speaking. Low, and almost too hard to hear, but it was the first thing Sharky noticed when he shifted. Moved to stretch. That, and the sheets that were almost too damn soft to touch under him.

Rubbing first his hands, then his cheek against it, he hummed in contentment only to recall his own bed. The sheets which he’d worn a hole into before tearing, that he swore up and down he’d replace three months back and counting. Those sheets didn’t even hold a half-burned match to these.

He opened his eyes, confused for a few seconds until he caught the figure sitting only a few feet away from him.

John sat at the bed’s edge, his back to him as he held his phone up to his ear. His responses were on the quiet side, not meant to disturb anyone, but Sharky could make out some of it as John’s voice drifted over to him.

“No. Well, there is a possibility. …Brother dear, you’re prying. I hardly think you-” John paused, scoffing right after, and a wave a self-consciousness hit him.

This was some private shit. Something Sharky wasn’t sure he should’ve heard at all, not while John thought he was sleeping it off next to him.

But John was there. Still with him, not leaving an empty space for Sharky to find after waking up alone on his all too large bed. That was a shock. One that pushed up a whole lot of other shit that he didn’t want to feel. Not right now, not here, but his mind always had a habit of dragging it all up when he least wanted it.

Watching John helped, though. Seeing someone there, even if he was focused on the conversation at the moment. Added more to the whole ‘the last eight to twelve hours weren’t a lie’ thing, and he held onto that fact tight.

When John ended the call, Sharky quickly closed his eyes. Waited, not sure at all what to do or say, but figured this would give him time to decide.

He felt the bed shift. Nerves running on overdrive, he took in a deep breath, and cracked his eyes open. “Hey, just so you know-”

Partway to him, John paused, startled.

Sharky blinked up at him, and lost his train of thought completely. Because it looked a hell of a lot like he was going in for a kiss. Like he’d planned on waking him up that way all along.

Because John still hadn’t done it yet. Hadn’t kicked him out, or wanted him out, like a whole lot of his morning afters usually went.

Funny how that was the hardest thing to believe yet.

So, he tugged him down. Felt John respond immediately, as Sharky rolled onto his back, and focused on kissing him. Hard at first, then softer. Each lazy kiss holding on just long enough for him to need air right after.

John trailed his fingers along his jaw, everything about it gentle, and Sharky let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

“…Neither did I.” John took in a slow breath, and wet his lips. “But it’s morning, and whoever this person is that I’ve found in my bed, I’d like to see more of them.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. One and the same,” he murmured, grazing Sharky’s lips with his. “Maybe even keep him there, if possible.”

It took effort, but Sharky drew back. Just enough to take John in like he wanted to. Hoping to try and catch even a hint of this in his mind to hold onto, only to want to dive right back in. Hell, if his mornings all started off like this, he’d gladly give in every time.

“I think he’d like that. Shit, I know I would. But you know what sounds good right now?”

“What?” John asked, gentle still.

“Breakfast. Never really got to that step before.” Sharky gave him a small grin, and chuckled. “Always wanted to, though. Got eggs and toast? Or…shit, I can try pancakes.”

Watching him still, John gave him a slow smile, and it was the prettiest one he’d earned yet. “Promising to keep any and all fires to a minimum?”

“Hey, I’m certified remember? For fire-starting and stopping. Guaranteed.”

“Very well then,” John replied, leaning in for another kiss. “Breakfast it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, it feels strange finally finishing this up, especially since in a way I've been working on and coming back to this story since November of last year. But it's grown very near and dear to my heart, and I can't thank you all enough for checking this out to begin with! 
> 
> I also think it's safe to say by now that there might be a few more ideas in store for these two. Here's hoping they won't take too long to come together. ;)


End file.
